The Lamb & The Knife
by MissLala73
Summary: Max's past is back to haunt him, threatening his future with Millie ... and it was all going so well. Last instalment of Stuck, Coming Home & DFTCM, probably.
1. Chapter 1

_This is for Feebee, because she needs the rain …_

The afternoon sun poured in through the wooden slated blinds, casting shadow and light across the bed and the body stretched out diagonally across it, one leg raised slightly at the knee, the covers in crumpled disarray beneath. Faint noise from the street beyond filtered in through the open window together with a light spring breeze. It wasn't particularly warm outside, but the sun heated the room and the cool air lightened the atmosphere within which was otherwise heavy with the scent of their arousal and completion. He watched her breathing for several seconds from the bathroom door, there was nothing else on the planet so beautiful in his mind.

Her eyes opened suddenly, letting out a soft 'oof' as the unexpected weight landed on her body. She adjusted to it quickly, shifting his head to a more comfortable position. She sighed in satisfaction at the little noises of pleasure emanating from him as she gently ran her fingertips up the back of his neck and raked through his hair. The fingers of her other hand toyed with the hair above his forehead, twisting a few strands at a time into short curls. As he lazily drew circles on her stomach with his fingers, he wondered if it was possible that he had died and gone to heaven, he wanted to lie here, just like this, his head cradled in her hands, his cheek pressed into the gentle warmth of her body. Two problems with that though. They had to leave for this wretched party in less than three hours and more pressingly, the longer she caressed him, the more urgently he wanted more than just her hands.

It seemed exquisitely decadent to spend a whole day doing nothing. They had so few whole days to spend together and when they did, there was always something planned, someone to visit or something that had to be done. After all, they were both planners, every minute had to be used wisely, productively. For him, the answer would be to go to the gym, for her it would be organising, tidying or her new found obsession with cooking. Big improvements were being made there, he was pleased to note yesterday's sausage casserole was surprisingly edible, even though there was little Tuscan about it in his opinion. But today, nothing was planned until the evening and it made sense to have an 'easy' day after a tough week, and how better to do that than in bed?

Max had been out early, as usual, and stocked up on fresh coffee grinds and croissants from the local French bakery that Millie adored so much, picking up the Mail and Telegraph papers on the way back. Not that she would read either these or tomorrow's Sunday papers, despite her weekly assertion that this time she would, Millie was only interested in the colour magazines they contained. The rest would be left unread by her until the end of the week when she would finally declare them out of date, gather them up and dump them in the recycling bin. He'd given up asking why she bothered to keep them that long at all.

"Why doesn't your mother like me?"

Ah, the omnipresent question. Rarely asked, but always there, almost as if the woman herself haunted them. For the most part of their relationship, it hadn't mattered, but since he moved in he noticed it was increasingly important to Millie.

"I don't know," he replied, glad that she couldn't see his lie. "She's a difficult person," at least that was the truth.

He looked up, suddenly she felt bereft of his weight and gave a little noise to tell him just that. She pulled a pillow under her head so that she could see him, puzzled by the concentration in his face as he stared first at one breast, and then the other.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to decide if I have a favourite" he replied deadpan. She laughed contentedly, beautifully to his ears.

"And do you?"

"Not sure yet, requires further investigation."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I need to observe, feel, taste …"

Millie's stomach flipped at his explicit words. She knew exactly what was coming, but her part of the game was to be innocent.

"So, tell me, how do they look?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Well, this one," he turned his attention to her left breast, "appears to be perfect, round, plump, as does this one," turning to inspect the right closely. "Impossible to choose …"

"Really?" she breathed.

"Mmm. I suppose I'd better see how they feel. Maybe one will feel better than the other."

"Maybe …" Millie's breath hitched as the backs of his fingers swept over one then the other, his palms cupping, kneading her flesh, his thumbs tantalisingly lightly running back and forth over her nipples. Heat flashed through her body, her skin increasingly sensitive as his body brushed against hers. She swallowed, resisting the urge to pull him to her ever closer, willing herself to surrender to his game. "Well?" she was gasping now, "any closer to a decision?"

He let out a sigh, "it's just so hard …"

"Is it? Oh."

"… to choose," he finished with a devilish smile, enjoying every moment of her divinely tortured state. She was writhing now, just a little, trying to contain herself, trying to control her breathing but rapidly losing the battle with her own body. "Both flawless, smooth, firm …"

Millie whimpered.

"I wonder how they taste?" Her eyes fluttered closed as his head dipped to her chest, his lips closing around one nipple. The heat of his mouth and the ministrations of his tongue, alternately flicking and sweeping, shot a bolt of intense desire through her. She gripped the sheets at her sides to stop herself from launching off the bed, but she couldn't stop herself arching her body into him, entreating him to increase the intensity, but just as she did, he stopped and lifted his head to look up at her, his smile evermore wicked. If she didn't want him to continue so much, she could have slapped him for his self-possession. "Very nice", his breath danced across her skin, "but I can't ignore the other one, have to make a fair comparison." This time as his head dipped, she held his head to her breast, arching again into him but this time not allowing him to pull away without a fight. He didn't fight. Instead, he rolled onto her, settling one thigh firmly between hers. Satisfied that his game was over, she allowed her hands to glide down to his shoulders, so strong and muscular, still faintly tanned from their holiday several weeks ago. She dug her nails into the firm flesh, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his throat, which only served to heighten the sensation flowing through her body from her breasts as he moved from one to the other.

"Well?" she finally found wits enough to ask.

Max raised his head and shifted so that his eyes were level with hers. "Both delicious. It's a draw."

Millie smiled. It was her turn now.

Their eyes held each other for several moments. Then, just as Max closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to hers, Millie pushed back against his shoulders. Catching him unaware, Millie rolled him onto his back as she took her position astride him, her hands coming to rest on his chest. Max laughed with surprise at her sudden move, throwing his head back into the pillow in delight at her forwardness.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" he taunted.

"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you." Millie slid away from him and off the bed. "Keep them closed," she re-iterated firmly.

Still chuckling, he complied and brought his hands behind his head. Millie scurried away to the spare room where Max kept most of his clothes, their bedroom was full of her things and it suited him to have some space of his own. She opened the wardrobe containing suits, shirts … and ties. She ran her fingers down several of the ties hanging from a rack on the back of the door. She stopped momentarily at a fairly hideous blue and yellow one, her brow furrowing at the Christmas present from his mother. Brushing aside the uncomfortable sensation, she eventually selected a dark silk number, usually worn for court.

"What are you doing?" his voice called out from their bedroom. She wrapped the tie around her hands, leaving a short length between them.

"I hope your eyes are still closed," she called back sternly, deliberately avoiding his question.

"Would I ever disobey you?"

Millie smiled. Obedience was not one of Max's predominant character traits. Turning back towards the door, she caught sight of herself in the full length mirror, her hair tumbling over one shoulder, her pale skin reddened in small patches by his mouth and fingers, the contrasting dark tie tangled in her hands. She held her breath for a moment, suddenly reminded of what Max saw when he looked at her and how he'd shown her only a couple of months earlier. Eventually exhaling in a rush, she threw back her head and walked back to the man waiting, supplicant, on their bed. It was obvious that he had not obeyed her. The previously open window was now closed, for her benefit she suspected. He knew that she hated being cold and if he wanted to keep her naked, she needed to be warm.

"Bad, bad boyfriend," she admonished quietly.

With his eyes closed, his lower lip jutted out stubbornly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do. Or did that window close itself?"

"Why, PC Brown, quite the detective," he teased, flexing languorously, but his coolness was short-lived as Millie retook her position astride him, the tie still in her hands. Determined to deal with his insolence, she assessed what was needed and formed a loose knot at one end of the tie in preparation, then moved his hands from behind to just above his head on the pillow. Swiftly she looped the knot around one wrist and pulled it tight then quickly passed it through the slatted headboard.

"Keep them closed" she reminded him as he blinked in surprise before submitting to her demand and she tied his other wrist securely, this time with a double knot. It was all done in a matter of a few seconds, too quickly for him to form an opinion on whether he liked it or not. As she completed her work by double knotting his first wrist, he decided to let her continue and see where it took them. He felt something for her that he had never believed would be possible with any woman. Trust.

Her task completed, she wondered what to do next, yet she couldn't help admiring her handiwork. "Open them now," she commanded softly. He did as she asked, and looked up at her gazing down at him. She had never looked so magnificent or so powerful. It was a long time since he had given up control, a long time since he had allowed any woman to control him and he had never intended to again. But this was so different.

Millie stared at him fiendishly, a new plan forming. She leaned forward and rested one hand on the pillow next to his head, with the other she slowly ran a finger along his cheek, then to his lower lip. His lips parted with the sensation and she dipped her finger inside his mouth. His eyes closed, this time involuntarily, and a groan escaped. Eagerly he accepted her finger, lightly suckling. Millie was transfixed, never had she imagined this could happen. With his hands literally tied, he was like a caged lion, all power and muscle but unable to use it. Except, of course, that he probably could manage to untie himself if he wanted to. The fact that he didn't however, that he was permitting her this made it all the more exhilarating.

He gave a moue of disappointment when she removed her finger, trailing it damply down his chin, his neck and along his collar bone. She lowered her lips to just an inch or so above his, teasing him by dipping and backing away, his breathing grew laboured and she could feel exactly how aroused he was, the evidence behind her was increasingly substantial. She smiled at her own little joke but Max was too wrapped up in the passion to notice. All he could think about was capturing her lips, if he could stay focussed on that, he might just last a bit longer. Finally, Millie relented and allowed him his longed for prize. From his weakened position he kissed her hungrily, lifting his head off the pillow for more and more, the sensation mounting as Millie began to lightly stroke along his arms from his shoulders, her touch feather-light on the sensitive skin of his inner forearms, over the bindings of the tie, her fingers eventually reaching his open palms which she circled slowly. He usually found this comforting, it was anything but now.

"Millie?" he gasped into her mouth mid-kiss, "I can't …"

"Can't what?" she returned, her feigned innocence at odds with her actions.

"You're going to have to … under the pillow," he managed to say between shuddering breaths.

Millie smiled and reached under the pillow for the shiny square packet, sitting back as she found it. "Well, as you've been such a good boy …"

"Is the headboard broken" he asked when enough sense had returned to his head for him to be able to form speech.

Millie looked up from her exhausted slump on his body. Still tied up, he was quite a sight, if only she could take a photograph, but somehow she thought he probably wouldn't go for that. The loud crack that had accompanied his cry when he came was indeed the sound of one of the vertical slats on the headboard splintering.

"Umm, yes" Millie grimaced, "oh well, never mind. It was worth it." Her eyes sparkled at him as she spoke and he couldn't resist her infectious humour.

"Yeah, it was. But I think you'd better untie me now, don't you?" Millie shifted then paused, pretending to mull it over, cocking her head to one side. "Millie …" a note of 'don't push it' creeping in to his voice. After another fractional pause she reached up and released the knots. He pulled the tie towards him and inspected it. The splintered wood had frayed the silk slightly and he frowned. "I liked this one, couldn't you have used another?"

"What like that blue and yellow thing?" Millie settled on her side into his body, hooking a leg over his. "No thanks."

Max knew exactly what she meant but before the spectre of his mother could cast a shadow on their contentment, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

Big thanks to Feebee for giving the following two chapters the once over & apologies to her fellow Melbourne commuters the other morning …

**Two months earlier, late January.**

He loved sitting in this kitchen, it was everything that a family ought to be in his mind. Comfortable, teasing, loving – the sort of family he felt he had spent his own childhood peering through windows at, envying friends. He'd thought he could only dream of ever having anything like this for himself, so had quashed the notion for most of his life. Then, out of the blue, after a heated encounter in a lift and a subsequent hard-won second chance, here he was and in front of him the source of Millie's vibrant hair and pale colouring, he'd easily cope with Millie growing older like her mother. Sometimes he wondered if it was too good to be true but even after all these hours, days, possibly weeks he'd sat at this table, Max still couldn't find a fault line. If there was one, it was remarkably well hidden.

Millie was reading an old Sunday Times magazine, her left hand stretched out towards Max who took it, idly playing with her fingers one by one. Each time he reached her ring finger he paused, somehow it didn't look right being bare anymore. He couldn't quite bring himself to visualise it decorated with gold and diamonds, but even so the thought had taken root and he kind of liked it. Millie was too immersed in her article to notice, but he was aware of another pair of eyes watching him from her position at the sink washing vegetables for lunch. Nothing escaped Sondra Brown. She had every appearance of being the loving housewife who filled her days caring for her family, punctuated only by gardening, tennis matches and lunches with friends, yet beneath the benign exterior laid a sharp mind that rarely missed a trick. Max met her gaze levelly. He couldn't be sure exactly what she was thinking but it was definitely along the lines of 'so that is your intention is it?' She didn't smile, but somehow he felt her approval as he continued to toy with his lover's hand.

Flipping the magazine shut, Millie suddenly broke the silence a few minutes later, still unaware of the unspoken communication between her mother and Max. "Has Tara decided when she is coming home?"

Sondra smoothly turned her attention to her eldest daughter. "Early March, darling. No date yet, but her contract finishes at the end of February and it seems she actually _wants_ to come home, at last."

"At last, what?" asked Richard Brown striding into the kitchen with a small spaniel getting under his feet, nearly tripping him. "Posy, piss off into your bed, will you?" his course language earning him an affectionately stern look from Sondra.

_Just like Millie_, thought Max instinctively sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. Here was the only fly in the family Brown ointment, at least as far as he was concerned. He knew he ought to feel an affinity with Millie's father, after all they had been born within a few streets of each other, albeit over two decades apart. Even their origins were similar, immigrant mothers married to born and bred East End fathers, except Millie's grandmother was regarded as a jubilant warm Irish woman without the hang ups of his mother. Despite the similarities, or perhaps because of them, Max frequently felt Richard's suspicion. Of course, he thought his seven month disappearance to Poland hadn't helped even though Mille assured him that wasn't the case, not anymore. Sondra had once taken him aside and told him that Richard was simply having a hard time letting go of his girl to another man. It had taken a while, but eventually Max began to believe the explanation and as he relaxed in the older man's company, Richard started to warm to him. Not one hundred percent, they didn't exactly disappear to the together pub for the evening, but it was enough for everyone to feel comfortable. Even so, he still sat up straighter, like a schoolboy on his best behaviour. It didn't go unnoticed by Millie, who squeezed his fingers gently.

"Tara coming home," answered Millie for her mother who having heard footsteps was now attending to the steaming kettle on the Aga. Max watched as Richard slipped past her towards the biscuit barrel, his hand briefly resting on her hip in an unconscious display of affection. The easy warmth and humour of this family enveloped Max, he never wanted to leave.

"Hmm, I know," Richard rolled his eyes while selecting a custard cream, "and how long will it be before I hear 'Daddy, there's a new project in Sierra Leone, Haiti, Timbuktu, wherever" he waved a hand, "that I have to get involved in. Please could you lend me some money for the flight?'" Tara was a serial charity volunteer, doling out aid supplies to the desperate and displaced of the world. Her raison d'etre. "She needs to get herself back here and get started with a proper job."

"Oh Dad," laughed Millie, "she really believes in what she is doing. Besides, it's your own fault for funding her for all these years."

Richard grimaced at being caught out. "Well if she's so determined to do charity work, why can't she do it here for a change?" he muttered, "plenty of charity cases around here these days." It wasn't lost on either Max or Millie that he didn't suggest Tara follow her sister's chosen career path. Another reason for Richard's suspicion of Max was his discomfort at being in such personal close proximity to a Detective Inspector. Richard Brown may well have been a well-respected scion of the motor trade, with several prominent dealerships bearing his name, but his previous incarnation as Dickie Brown was less well-known. The less known the better, and while he had resolutely left his shady past behind him upon his marriage, together with the rougher edges of his East End accent, not all of his friends had managed to stay on the straight and narrow. It was bad enough that his beloved firstborn had joined the police service, he still regarded it as the other side along with the Inland Revenue, but he had taken a very stiff drink to his study when Millie announced that Becksy had moved out of the flat and Max was going to move in with her. Yet there was nothing so important as the happiness of the three women in his life, four if the dog was included, and Sondra had convinced him to accept Max as Millie's choice, for now at least.

"Anyway, your mother and I were thinking we'd like to throw a party, haven't had a party in years."

"Two years, darling. We had one hundred and fifty for your mothers eighty-fifth."

"That doesn't count, it wasn't for us, couldn't move at the thing for all the bloody wheelchairs, zimmer frames and nurses with oxygen cylinders. Anyway, as I was saying, it's your thirtieth, our thirtieth" he ignored Max's slightly raised eyebrows, "and Tara's homecoming. I can't think of three better reasons, can you?"

Sondra looked at Max with amusement, he averted his eyes quickly but not before he understood what she was getting at. Perhaps there would be an even better reason for a party soon?

"Sounds good. When and where? Here?" asked Millie, unaware of the silent exchange going on around her.

"No, we thought we'd do it at the end of March and it would still be too cold for a marquee. Daddy thought at the golf club." Mille tried to hide her grimace, but her mother knew her too well. "I know what you think of the place darling, but it is your father's second home and we can always run a couple of minibuses for your and Tara's friends in and out of town."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out."

"More or less" confirmed Richard.

"Well, suits me" agreed Millie breezily.

"And Max, we'd really like to invite your family." Both Max and Millie stiffened at Sondra's suggestion.

"Oh, I don't know …" his eyes flitted nervously to Millie.

"It would mean a lot to us to finally meet them." Max realised this wasn't a polite invitation to be gently but firmly turned down. Sondra fixed her gaze on him resolutely. "Just let me have their address and I'll send a card." It was non-negotiable.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, warning! This is quite steamy from the off, more so than Chapter 1, but it is relevant to later chapters & will be referred to.

**Later that evening …**

"So, honeymoon baby then?"

"God, no! I was conceived long before that happened." Millie laughed, flopping down onto the bed beside him having discharged her dog-sitting duties for the night and slung her now muddy paw printed jeans into the washing machine. "Good old-fashioned gunshot wedding, you should see the picture of Mum on their wedding day! Thank God for empire line dresses." Max looked at her in puzzlement, he had no idea what an empire line was and how it had anything to do with a dress but decided it probably wasn't important, he got the gist of what she was saying. "Mum's parents didn't speak to her until Tara came along and realised they had to accept that which they couldn't alter. It was even longer before they would have anything to do with Dad, he was from the wrong side of the track in their opinion. Of course that changed a bit when he started to make money and suddenly he wasn't so bad after all."

"I suppose I'm from the wrong side as well then."

"No, you're from the same side, that's the problem," but she kissed his nose to soften the comment.

They lay facing each other in her teenage room, both thankful that the single bed had long ago been swapped for a double sized iron bedstead. Being surrounded by the trinkets and mementos of her younger days made Max feel younger as well. It was as though each time they slept here, he learnt something new about her. A photograph from a school play, an old ski pass, notes from school friends left behind over the years but not completely forgotten.

"I'm glad your parents have gone out," he murmured, tangling his fingers in her hair.

"Why?"

"So I don't have to worry that they might hear us."

"Really? That doesn't usually bother you."

"Hmm …" he nuzzled into her neck, "but maybe I have something different to usual in mind."

"And that is..?"

He sat up and pulled her with him. "You'll … have … to … wait … and … see," punctuating each word by undoing one more button of her shirt, finally grinning at her wickedly as he pushed it back from her shoulders, leaving it pooled about her wrists and hips on the bed.

Millie pouted with mock impatience, "what if I don't want to wait? What if I _can't_ wait?" She retaliated by ripping his shirt out of the waist of his jeans and running her hands over his firm abdomen. He grasped her hands and brought her fingertips to his lips, lightly kissing each one. After completing his task, he slid from the bed, adoring how dishevelled she looked in just her underwear and the undone shirt. Her breasts enticingly rising with every breath out of the girlish pink bra, the matching sheer knickers resting on her hips. She looked all innocence, except that as he had repeatedly taken delight in corrupting her he knew it was only a veneer of naivety barely concealing the heat inside.

Still fully clothed, he walked over to the freestanding dressing mirror in one corner of the room and wheeled it back with him to the foot of the bed before pushing it back against the wall. Millie saw her state for the first time, astonished by the abandonment of her position, her bare legs half crossed in front of her, leaning back onto her hands slightly behind her. The effect led to her breasts jutting out and her chin raised. She looked down at herself in the mirror and felt excitement stir. Movement to the right of her reflection tore her gaze away, Max had taken off his shirt and in the candlelight his skin seemed to glow golden. Their eyes met, she could tell he approved of how she accepted the placement of the mirror and that she understood what he wanted. Without breaking eye contact he swiftly removed his jeans and boxers, his already strong erection springing free of the confining fabric. Millie swallowed, the excitement fluttered in her stomach and lower still. He climbed back onto the bed, took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking to possess her. One at a time, she lifted her hands to his shoulder blades so that his upper body entirely supported hers. He knelt astride her, lifting her to him, not once taking his mouth from hers and after what felt like hours of this slow, delicious devouring, Max pulled her to her knees, spreading her slightly apart and shifted himself behind her, so they were both now facing the mirror. She had never watched herself in the throes of passion and wondered how often he had thought about positioning her like this. The contrast of their bodies was stark in the soft light, his golden, shadows forming defining the musculature that enthralled her. Her skin shone like delicate porcelain, her body smooth, slender but with an underlying strength that left him unafraid of breaking her.

Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, he pulled the shirt away from her wrists, discarding it to the floor. "I want to watch you take off the rest" he whispered thickly, his arousal increasing with every breath. Unsure at first, she slowly slid one strap and then the other over her shoulders, his eyes drank in every move thirstily. Satisfied that he was ready, Millie reached behind her to unhook the bra, her back arching as she did so. Max licked his lips as her breasts first rose with the movement and then fell free as the garment dropped to the bed. Watching him intently, Millie continued her striptease, hooking her thumbs into the knickers and pulling them down inch by inch. It got a little more difficult the lower she took them and removing them completely was more awkward still. She half turned and looked up at him behind, smiling self-consciously at her inelegance. He tried to smile back to reassure her but the ferocity of his need was overwhelming. Millie felt engulfed by him, perhaps she should have been scared by it, but she wasn't, right now there was a chance she'd do anything he asked of her. The knickers safely removed, he pulled her back to her raised kneeling position in front of him so that they were both reflected in the mirror. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and he immersed his hands into it, pulling it away from her face.

"See? See how beautiful you are?" Of course Millie saw herself naked every day and didn't think much of it, she certainly didn't regard herself as a great beauty. Neither was inhibited by their bodies, but she had never seen herself like this, through his eyes. She felt elemental, reduced to nothing more than a sexual being in his arms. Not exactly a feminist ideal, but there wasn't anywhere else she would rather be and no other way that she wanted to feel than here. "Look at yourself Millie." She wrenched her eyes away from his to take in the sight her body. "Touch yourself, just as you like me to." She had no will power to refuse, the reflection and his softly commanding voice were intoxicating. With one hand, after the briefest moment of hesitation, she stroked from her nape sweeping down over her neck, between her breasts, rising again to cup one, allowing it to fill her hand, and then the other. Max watched, powerless to his desire for more. The enthraller became the enthralled. He watched as her fingers dug into her flesh, feeling it as if they were his own fingers. He groaned at her increasing lack of timidity, her confidence growing as her hand continued its journey downwards, fingers splayed, over her stomach, eventually disappearing between her parted thighs. "Oh God, Millie." Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined she would take to this so readily.

For Millie, it was as though she could feel his pleasure as well as her own. As though she could feel what he felt when he touched her. The firm fleshiness of her breasts and the nipples that tightened torturously to buds at the slightest touch. The anticipation as her hands skimmed her body before reaching their longed for destination between her thighs. Her inner muscles contracted involuntarily, making clear to the rest of her body that it wouldn't be much longer.

Still with her eyes firmly fixed on the reflection of the two bodies in the mirror, she leant her head back on his shoulder. He snaked an arm from underneath hers which had hung by her side and held her opposing shoulder and she sank back into his body, allowing her weight to be borne by him. His erection pulsed with life into her back and she moved against it, falling into the rhythm of her other hand. He struggled to breathe, the sight of their bodies and her pleasure so arresting. Time stood still, but eventually he could bear it no longer, she seemed so close and he needed to be part of it.

"May I?" His left hand traced along her left arm, all the way down to her fingers. She relinquished to him and shuddered as she watched his fingers disappear beneath her.

"How does it … do I … feel?" she gasped.

"So hot. God, you're so hot, and soft. I could melt inside you." Not for the first time he rued how his insistence on using condoms didn't do her justice. The past sprang into the present briefly before he shut the door on it again, he had decided a long time ago that he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Besides, Millie didn't seem to mind, she was ambivalent about being on the pill so the topic seldom came up and his reasons were left unexplained. But he doubted those reasons now as Millie moaned and ground her hips downwards, taking as much of him as she could, her hand lightly resting on his, guiding him, encouraging him.

"I want you now, like this," he rasped. Millie felt dizziness assail her as a result of her shallow breathing and she had to lean forward to steady herself on the bedstead foot rail while he left her unsupported to reach down for his jeans and the shiny square packets they contained. Sinking back onto his heels behind her, he tore open one packet with his teeth and rolled it on. Her back gleamed in the low light and he ran a finger down from her nape along the length of her spine causing her to arch and shiver. "Don't move" he whispered, rising up on his knees again, positioning himself slowly and then with his eyes holding hers in the mirror he slowly slid inside her, watching with animalistic satisfaction as she so nearly came undone.

Neither spoke for a long time afterwards, as if mere words would shatter what they had shared. Both knew they had crossed a boundary together, yet Max was uneasy in the midst of their paradise. He couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't last forever. He didn't deserve it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two months later, end March. The day of the party.**

Max watched on from the bed as Millie painted her nails, swearing softly under her breath as she made mistakes.

"Aren't you going to get ready?" she asked without looking up, finishing her work with spray to speed up the drying process, as per Becksy's idiot-proof instructions.

"When are we leaving?"

"Forty, forty-five minutes."

"Well, in that case, I guess I've got another half hour before I need to think about showering and shaving, again." This time Millie looked back him sternly.

"You still haven't unloaded the dishwasher or put the rubbish out."

"Make me," he replied cockily, stretching out his arms above him.

In silence, Millie carefully finished applying her mascara using only her fingertips on the wand and after testing her nails for dryness, she rose and slowly made her way back to the bed. She reached down to the tie still lying next to him among the messed up sheets and wound it round her hands. Max rolled onto his side towards her, his lips curling mockingly but appreciating the sight of her clad in the short satin robe, revealing a flash of black underwear as she moved, her hair wound around giant curlers. She looked every inch the Hollywood starlet preparing for a big role, except she wasn't. She was Millie Brown from Epping and she was his. In the midst of his thoughts he felt a sharp sting to his thigh as suddenly she let the tie fly from one hand.

"Ow! That wasn't very nice!" He rubbed his leg, laughing as she wound the tie around her hand again, ready for another strike. "Okay, okay. I get it, I get it, but why do I always have to take out the rubbish?" However, he hauled himself up off the bed and, still naked, wandered away to the kitchen to complete his chores.

"Because it's a blue job, not pink," Millie called after him, dropping the tie back on to the bed, it felt good to exert some authority from time to time and keeping him in check could be such a pleasure. Smiling to herself, she settled back down to uncurl her hair, each section falling to her shoulders accompanied by the sound of clanging dishes and cutlery, little of which would end up in their right places, but it was the principle that mattered. She ran her fingers through the waves, coaxing it to relax softly on to her shoulders and examined her reflection critically. Becksy had given her yet another masterclass in how to achieve tonight's look, she could only hope that she would be able to carry it off.

Sondra had insisted on outfitting both her girls for the party and together with Becksy's valuable staff discount at Selfridges had delighted in giving them free rein on the designer floor. Becksy's professional eye had immediately homed in on a black leather dress with a wide studded belt and announced it was the only thing for Millie. Millie stood in front of the mannequin in her faded skinny jeans, boots that had seen better days but were so comfortable and slouchy top feeling like a fraud for even being there. But there was something about this dress, she got the same feeling staring at it on the hanger in her bedroom that she had when she got it into the changing room. Excitement that felt almost illicit, it was wrong to spend so much, but still ... The moment is was on her body, it belonged to her and when Becksy threw in the matching turn down ankle boots, that was it, she was sold. She knew Max would love it, although he might comment that there wasn't very much of it.

She pulled on the dress, adjusting her underwear to accommodate the deep v-neckline and smoothing the slashed soft leather over her curves.

"I suppose I'd better put something on before taking out the …" Max's words died in his throat at the sight of Millie as he swaggered back into the bedroom. "Bloody hell," he whispered. He'd seen the dress of course, but it didn't look much on the hangar so he hadn't given it a second thought, despite Millie's eager anticipation to wear it. On her however, it was another matter entirely.

"Do you like it?" she asked nervously, her previous self-assurance that he would like it faltered. Max could only swallow and nod slowly. "Oh yes, and I think every other man will as well." Recovering his composure he added, "I don't think I'm going to be able to let you out of my sight this evening."

As he showered, Max thought of the little black box tucked away inside one of his socks and the very back of his sock drawer. The safest place he could think of, away from inquisitive eyes and tidying fingers. Tonight wasn't the right time, too much going on and he still had to get Richard alone first, and in a favourable mood, which was easier said than done. Besides, he needed to get this party over with. If only he'd found a way to persuade his mother not to accept Sondra's invitation but she'd shown almost a perverse delight in replying that she and Max's father would love to attend. It didn't ring true, not after all the sarcastic comments she had made about Millie over the last few months, comments which had no foundation and were spoken purely out of spite. On the few occasions they met, Ola belittled Millie at every opportunity, from how she took her coffee, 'too much sugar will make you run to fat' she had announced, to how she dressed, to how quiet she was in the older woman's presence, branding her 'uninteresting'. Nothing Millie said or did met with her favour, leaving Millie despondent each time. Back home after one visit, Max had caught Millie clasping the sugar jar to her chest as the kettle boiled before placing it back in its place unopened. He'd risen from the sofa and silently made a point of taking it and putting the two sugars in her mug himself. Ola had fucked with his head for years, he wasn't going to let her fuck with Millie's as well.

Max knew the truth, he just didn't know how to say it. Yet it was simple. Millie wasn't Polish enough and of course, never would be. Circumstance had forced Ola into a marriage she considered beneath her and with one son married unacceptably outside of the fold, there was no way she was going to let her eldest get away. Max had always known that as far as his mother was concerned there was only one woman she would truly be satisfied with to complete her family.

_**A/N**__ For anyone interested, Millie's dress is from the Balmain Spring 2010 collection (#4 on the Balmain website) – well this is fantasy after all, and if I can't have it in real life, the next best is to gift it to Millie … _


	5. Chapter 5

Millie had tried really hard to contain her joy and spare her father's feelings when Richard rang two weeks before the party. A huge flood at the golf club after several days of incessant rain had caused a nearby river to burst its banks, leaving the clubhouse out of use for several months. Richard and Sondra decided rather than postpone they would use another venue and after a few strings were pulled and palms greased, Forty Hall, just on the northern edge of Canley was secured for the night. Originally a grand Jacobean manor house, it oozed character and prestige, Richard had admitted that he was mad not to have thought of it before. Millie and Tara, and even Sondra, were just pleased that they wouldn't have to use his stodgy old golf club after all.

Max looked across the room from his position by the window. He wasn't surprised by the range of the guests' ages, but he was taken aback by one or two faces that he hadn't expected. At least two had been connected with money laundering in the last few years to his knowledge, but in each case the trail had been too complicated and coincidental for the CPS to be convinced enough to pursue prosecution. Max furrowed his brow as Richard laughed heartily with one of the two in question, making a mental note to ask Millie about Georgie Fleischmann at a better time. At least it was keeping his mind off the likely imminent arrival of his own family.

Millie was chatting animatedly with a small gaggle of old school friends when Max caught sight of first his father and then his mother. Despite an overwhelming urge to turn away and pretend they were nothing to do with him, he made his way over to where Ola and Barry stood watching the room. With his hands stuffed into his pockets and head bowed, he felt more like a truculent teenage boy than a fully grown man. Better to do this without Millie, he'd decided, and as the furtive glances his way from her friends had ceased, he hoped to be able to slip away unnoticed for long enough. As he approached, Ola's disapproving expression filled him with foreboding.

"Mum, Dad. Where're Greg and Laura?"

"They have a problem with their babysitter, or so they say. I see this family have plenty of money to waste," sniffed Ola contemptuously, looking around.

"It's to celebrate three special occasions, Mum, so it's not a waste as far as they are concerned." As always, she had him immediately on the defensive, and with nowhere to escape to. He cursed himself for falling into the same old trap.

"If I were her," she said referring to Sondra, "I wouldn't want the world to know that my daughter was conceived out of marriage. Slut. And the daughter is no different …" she spat.

"Ola!"

"Mum!" Barry and Max exclaimed in unison, but while Barry's tone was quietly deferential as usual, Max's low voice was heated with fury. "I will not have you talking like that about Millie or Sondra. Not here, not anywhere" he bit out between clenched teeth.

"I only base my opinion on what I know and what I see." Max knew that she was referring not only to what Millie was wearing, but also because they were living together, sinfully in her eyes.

"You don't know anything about either of them. You've never given Millie a chance. Never."

"Max …" warned Barry, "don't speak to your mother like that."

Ignoring him, just as he had learnt to from Ola over the years, Max continued, "just why are you here? If Millie and her family are so beneath you, why did you accept the invitation?" Ola shrugged off his anger dismissively, as if it was nothing but a minor irritant. "You just can't stand it, can you? You can't stand that I'm not doing exactly what you want, that I'm settled and happy."

"Happy! How can you be happy with her? You will be bored with her in a year or two and then what? It'll be too late and you'll be stuck with her." The venom dripped from Ola's tongue into old wounds that she knew exactly how to open. "When I think who you could be with …," but Max didn't let her finish.

"Enough" Max hissed. "You should leave. Now."

"But we've only just arrived, and I want to see exactly what sort of family you choose to spend your time with," Ola swept a hand a hand in front of her and smirked with victorious pride, staring up at her rattled son. Max stared back, controlling his breathing, willing himself not to give in and rise to her bait. As he concentrated on each breath, he became aware of a familiar perfume filling his lungs, softly enveloping him. Ola's hard dark little eyes flitted to her left. Max knew Sondra was at his side even before her hand came to rest comfortingly on his back and part of him wanted to turn on his heels and let her do battle with his mother. He turned to her to find reassuring eyes bestowing safety in her presence.

"Max?" her question was a kind yet clear instruction for him to observe social niceties and introduce her to his parents.

"Oh, um Sondra, this is my father Barry and my mother Ola."

"It's lovely to finally have the opportunity to meet you. Richard and I are delighted that you are able to join us this evening." Sondra extended a hand first to Barry, who shook it warmly, clearly captivated by her velvet-like voice and effortless chic, and then to Ola. Dressed in a dark teal V-neck satin gown that could easily have looked drab on anyone else, Sondra outshone every other woman in room except, as far as Max was concerned, Millie. Max watched Ola's expression grow tight-lipped.

"Yes, we're pleased to meet the family he spends more time with than is own" Ola said tightly, taking Sondra's hand stiffly.

Sondra didn't flinch at the jibe and Max felt his heart soar with pride that Ola had failed to intimidate her. "It is such a pity that Greg and Laura couldn't make it, but I do understand when one is at the mercy of unreliable babysitters." Ola looked at Sondra sharply. "Laura called this afternoon, such a sweet girl, you must be so pleased to have her for a daughter-in-law," Sondra continued in explanation.

"Oh yes, but of course can any woman ever be good enough for a mother's sons?" This time Sondra raised her eyebrows at the barb that was no doubt aimed at her own daughter.

"I suppose I can understand that. I believe Richard had similar misgivings about you to start with, Max?" responded Sondra attempting to lighten the atmosphere, playfully.

Max was about to answer when Ola cut in, "we wouldn't know. Max … doesn't like to tell us much."

Sondra was about to reply sympathetically when a loud cheer erupted from the far corner of the room grabbing their attention.

"Oh! I think some good news has just been announced. Max, I don't believe you have met my nephew Simon and his girlfriend, actually fiancée now, Kelly. Please Ola, Barry, do get yourselves drinks," Sondra gestured towards the bar, "and join us when you are ready."

"I see what you mean," whispered Sondra to Max conspiratorially as they walked towards an altogether happier group of guests.

"I haven't said anything."

"You don't need to darling."

************

Max was starting to come to terms with his mother's oppressive presence when the noise in the room quietened for a moment. Millie nudged him, alerting him to where Ola and Barry still stood alone but Ola's expression had changed from sour disapproval to delight. He followed her eyes to the door and felt his heart turn cold as he recognised the figure in the doorway surveying the crowd.

"Who is she?" asked Millie in a hushed tone.

Max exhaled his held breath and closed his eyes. There was no way to explain Katya that wouldn't sound strange.

"I suppose, she's like a foster sister. Except … it wasn't really like that at all," he mumbled, surreptitiously glancing at Millie to gauge her reaction to his revelation. But Millie wasn't listening. She was watching forlornly as Ola rushed over to emotionally embrace the impeccably dressed younger woman and tried to deny the stab of jealousy, but it was impossible. _Why can't she spare just a little of that for me,_ she thought wretchedly. Millie had wanted Ola's affection for so long and in vain that she had come to believe that the woman had none to give, watching this display cut into her like a knife. Perhaps it was an irrational hope but Millie wondered that maybe, just maybe if she could make a good impression on whoever this woman was, Ola might begin to warm to her.

Millie was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice Max watching her anxiously, wondering what she was thinking, wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

************

_**A/N** Fo__rty Hall is a real building in north London, I've just moved it several miles towards central London. Continuing the fashion theme from the last chapter, Sondra is dressed in Halston Heritage, which you can find at netaporter._


	6. Chapter 6

Nearly an hour later, and despite the constant feeling of being watched from different angles, Max's nerves were calmer. He stuck to Millie's side, unsure whether he was protecting her or using her for his own protection, probably the latter he had to admit. Nonetheless the strategy was working. Neither Ola nor Katya approached and that was fine by him.

"Are you okay?" whispered Millie after Roger and Carol had finished their day-by-day account of their last holiday towing a caravan across the Loire Valley in France. If anything could anaesthetise anyone, it would be _hilarious_ stories of misunderstandings with French locals and the divinity of a good French wine. Luckily, Millie and Max were unwittingly rescued by some of her new colleagues who also knew Roger.

"Struggling to stay awake, but otherwise fine. If we ever get that boring, I hope someone tells us," edging away Millie away from the small group that formed without them.

"You know Becksy will."

"Well she and Jasper are hardly the life and soul these days. I see he is back to being a Labrador."

"He hates parties. That's all. Becksy said he very nearly didn't make it out tonight." Max pulled her loosely into his arms, linking his hands behind her back as she did the same to him, looking up into his eyes warmly.

"Perhaps he had the right idea." Over her head he could see Becksy chatting with Millie's sister, Jasper standing by her side mutely staring into space. Then something beyond them caught his eye, a flash of sequins and glossy dark hair. Katya. She turned back to the room and looked straight back at him, daring him to follow her as she headed for the smoking area on the terrace. He didn't want to, but perversely he had to know why she was here and more importantly, what it would take to make her go away. He pondered the best way to slip away and cast his eyes over the room, swiftly skimming past Beth Green whose stare had also bored into his back for most of the evening. Really, this was all getting too much. He only wanted to be with Millie, why couldn't everyone else just leave him to it.

Millie had wryly commented earlier that she'd only invited Beth for Sally's sake, but she had fallen ill and not shown up. At least Dave was still in tow, holding the girl back like an anchor and gratefully lapping up crumbs of attention thrown his way. Poor Dave, thought Millie, too nice for his own good. Although she mused, she probably only thought that because he'd come on to her first, Beth had been his second choice.

"Are you sure you're okay? I know this evening is tough for you, I wish it was different. It was supposed to be fun."

"I'm fine. It's just Mum being here, it's awkward. Hopefully she'll get the hint soon and go home." Max tried to smile reassuringly but Millie's expression remained concerned, telling him he was failing miserably. "Look, there's something I've got to do. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"What? … What do you have to do?" she asked confused as he dropped his arms suddenly and breaking free of hers.

"Just … something. Don't worry about it." And with the briefest kiss to her forehead, he walked away towards the terrace. Millie turned and watched him move through the crowd, even if she hadn't been worried before, she certainly was now. She wondered where that woman was, he'd called her Katya and something about being sort of like a foster sister, except not. It didn't make any sense, but in his current mood, she recognised that he was unlikely to explain much more. He rarely talked about his family, even Greg was seldom mentioned although they actually seemed to get on well enough when the four of them met up from time to time. If she wanted to know who this Katya was, she'd have to find out for herself. Millie looked around the room in search of the woman but instead came face to face again with Roger.

"Where's Max?"

"Gone off to do 'something'. I don't know what."

"Are you two okay? He just seems a bit quiet, even more … er … reserved than usual."

Millie sighed. "It's only because his parents are here, they don't get on very well."

"Why did they did come along then?"

"I don't know. I haven't even spoken to them, can't face it. Mum did earlier, she said Barry was friendly enough, but she didn't feel like dampening her evening by talking to Ola again. I don't blame her, but I do feel bad that they're just standing on their own. No, not bad, guilty I suppose."

"Would you like us to go over and chat with then for a bit? We're pretty thick skinned, if she's really that bad."

Millie smiled. "You'll need a hide like an elephant, but feel free if you fancy a challenge."

*******************

"He's followed her out there?"

"He who and her who?" asked Becksy, bewildered by Jasper's sudden outburst.

"Max and that woman."

"What woman?"

"Don't you ever notice anything?"

"Don't you ever stop being suspicious of everybody?"

"No. Everyone has something to hide."

"Speak for yourself. Not me."

"Hmmm. That woman who his mother seemed to think rather a lot of."

"Oh. Her."

*******************

"What are you doing here?" demanded Max above the patter of rain on the fabric of the covered smoking area.

"I believe the invitation extended to family, so Ola asked me to come. Do you have a problem with that?" Max looked away, taking a deep breath. "I'll take that as a yes then," smirked Katya putting the cigarette to her lips and taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke theatrically. She offered the packet to Max.

"No."

She raised her eyebrows, demonstrating her surprise. "Miss goody two shoes must have quite an influence over you."

"Don't call her that," he muttered, adding more forcefully "you haven't the right to pass judgement on her."

"Poor little Millie. Does she know what kind of man you are?"

"You are pure fucking poison, Katya."

She laughed, a humourless cold laugh. "You used to call me pure fucking heaven." She took a step towards him, so close that he could feel her breath on his neck. It struck him as odd that the last time he stood this close to her was when he screwed her against a wall in her flat. The memory revolted him.

"That's before I found out what heaven really feels like."

"Ah, sweet! I'm so pleased for you."

Max looked down at her upturned face. It was still beautiful, no doubt of that, but different. He wondered if she'd had work done. Her teeth were definitely whiter than any other chain smoker he knew and there was a smoothness to her features that age hadn't touched. No little lines marking joy or sadness. Yet behind the beauty, manufactured or otherwise, lay cruel ugliness that no amount of surgery or make-up could hide.

"Why are you really here? I thought you had a whole new life in New York."

Katya grimaced, just wrinkling her nose a little, Max couldn't help but notice that her brow barely moved.

"I decided to come home. The job, well it wasn't all it was supposed to be in the end and I had a great offer waiting for me here in the City, so …" she took another long drag, "it made sense to return." A hint of vulnerability perhaps he wondered, maybe her suspect methods of breaking through the glass ceiling in the world of corporate law had finally caught up with her.

"You mean you've fucked everyone who isn't on oxygen or gay and there was nowhere else to go?" Katya looked at him sharply but didn't rise to his bait.

"I've missed you, Max," she responded evenly, evading his question and smoothing her fingertips down the lapel of his suit jacket before slipping her hand inside over the cotton covered hard muscle of his chest and finding a nipple. Against his will, the sensation shot through his body quickening his breath, and she knew it, edging her hips closer to his, increasing the pressure. "Have you missed me? Us?" Like a cat, she pressed her body to his. "Have you?"

Her whisper tickled his ear and Max felt his head reeling while his body stiffened, fighting against the most base of natural reactions. On the one hand, he loathed her, loathed her for every game she had ever played, every torture she had inflicted on his mind for years. But he had allowed her to do it, the physical flip side of the emotional pain being so intense that it had been addictive. He had always gone back for more and more, no matter how much he despised himself afterwards when she waltzed off to some other lover, better able to further her ambitions. In turn he used numerous women over the years to fill the emptiness until inevitably she would crook her finger and he would comply, the cycle beginning over again. He immersed himself in his work, becoming utterly single-minded, using professional successes to convince himself of his own worth. Yes, he had missed her when she left for the States, but only until that day in the lift and Millie. Millie. He compared her gentle pretty face to Katya's hard perfection and there was no contest. She was the first woman who did more than fill the void Katya left behind, somehow she poured her herself into his wounds rather than superficially covering them as the others had done. He'd realised early on what had always been missing with Katya, that Millie was faithful to him in every sense, even when he hadn't deserved it. She never made him feel inferior or that he had anything to compete with. She loved him as he was, even when she chided him in his most judgemental moments, and he wanted nothing more complicated than that. Nobody had ever adored him like that.

"No. I haven't missed you and I haven't thought about us in years."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care whether you believe me. I don't care what you think at all. I haven't been waiting for you, not this time." He took a step back and removed her hand from his chest. "You have no place here. You're not part of my family."

Katya pouted defiantly. "I can't upset Ola by leaving so soon. She considers me to be family, the daughter she never had." Katya inched forward, closing the distance he had tried to create. "Doesn't that make us ever so slightly incestuous?" Max realised that Katya wasn't giving up. "I wonder what Millie thinks of that." Max clenched his fists by his side, determined to give nothing away, but she knew him too well. "Oh, you haven't told her have you? What am I then, your dirty little secret?" Katya laughed, another knife twisting into him. "I like that. Oh Max, you never were any good at facing the truth."

"Don't you say a word. I don't want you to even talk to her."

"Or what? You'll arrest me? Please do!" she stepped back and offered her wrists to him mockingly. "No?" she pouted with mock disappointment. "Pity."

"You stay away from me and from Millie. I'll make this clear so that there's no misunderstanding. I'm not interested in resurrecting anything with you, ever. Get that into your head and leave."

With a final hard stare, he turned and stalked away from the lone figure on the terrace, ignorant of the fury he had caused and the plan of revenge for his easy rejection forming in her mind.

* * *

Having wandered through the two reception rooms of the party for several minutes, Millie began to lose her desire to find Katya. Friends and family were all having such a good time and providing she kept her back to Ola and Barry, she found she was able to forget them and enjoy it herself as well. While making her way back to where Max had left her, she was caught mid-step by a strong arm around her waist and looked up to find a recently arrived Ben at the top of it.

"This is great!" he exclaimed, "free food," grabbing a passing chicken satay, "and free booze! I love your Dad."

"Well, I'll tell him he's got a new fan." Ben and Millie grinned at each other.

"When I've finished off the rest of the food coming out of there," pointing towards the door leading out to the kitchen just a few feet away, "you are going to dance with me. You look amazing and that is one hell of a dress." He lifted her hand high above her head, encouraging her to twirl. "I say let's give Max something to get jealous about." Millie tried to look sternly at him, but couldn't resist giggling. However, her laughter died in her throat when she looked just beyond Ben to see Max storming from the terrace, his expression thunderous.

"Gotta go, Ben. I'll catch up with you a bit later."

"Max? Max?!" He didn't seem to see or hear her at first and she had to grab his arm to bring him to a halt by the edge of the dance floor. "Where've you been? Did you do what you needed to?"

"Yeah, it's fine," he muttered irritably.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Max?"

"It's fine Millie, just drop it will you?" Max snapped, shrugging his arm free of her hand. He regretted it instantly. She recoiled, hurt and confused by his sharpness, more convinced than ever that he was hiding something from her. Max saw the little tight smile that she used to try to cover her feelings, to try to make out that his dismissal of her didn't matter. "Jesus, Millie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He pulled her towards him. But where normally she would soften her body into the contours of his, she stood still and stiff against him, her arms clamped to her sides. "Dance with me, please," he pleaded urgently, hoping to distract her. He didn't want to tell her what had happened out on the terrace and he knew she wouldn't accept being fobbed off with bland assurances, but he could play for some time. "Please, Millie?" She still couldn't look at him without showing just how those few words had cut into her. It wasn't the words as much as the tone they were spoken with and that he was deliberately excluding her from whatever was troubling him. She thought they were long past that. Yet his contrite pleading burrowed into her heart and she couldn't maintain her resistance, capitulating just enough to allow herself to be manoeuvred on to the dance floor. The band had struck up an emotional rendition of 'Don't look any further.' Max held her tightly and Millie buried her face into his shoulder, finally succumbing to his perseverance. Occasionally she peeked over the top to see a few faces watching in surprise because no one had ever seen Max dance, even if this was really little more than swaying roughly in time to the music. Millie wished they could stay like this all night. Max wished she wouldn't ask any more questions.

*******************

A/N - Tonight, Katya is wearing a Herve Leger black sequin bandage dress which can be found on netaporter. It's not my thing, but it is perfect for her.

Song – 'Don't look any further', M People.


	7. Chapter 7

In the closing bars of the song, Max loosened his hold on Millie and pulled back slightly. It was enough to make her look up at him, still subdued but no longer visibly upset. "This is ridiculous. Tonight is meant to be about you and your family, not me and mine," he murmured. As the band members took a moment to rearrange their line up on stage, he stepped away and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, flinging it carelessly at the nearest table then rolling up his shirtsleeves.

"But … what are you doing?"

"We're here to have a great time tonight and that is what we're going to do. I'm going to make sure of it," he pulled her by the hand to the middle of the dance floor.

"I don't understand, you don't dance. I've never known you to dance."

"So? You don't think I can?" he teased.

"I don't know. Can you?" the very beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"My moves do extend to beyond the horizontal," pretending to be wounded by her lack of faith.

"Well, that I do know," she laughed as she chewed a fingernail, bemused by his sudden flamboyancy.

Max stood in front of her, hands on hips. "Look, here I am prepared to make a complete tit of myself in front of all these people for you. The least that you can do is _try_ to make me look less of an idiot."

She wanted to stay angry, she still felt hurt, but he was watching her with a degree of vulnerability that belied the humour in his words and her feet carried her forward before her mind even knew it had been made up. As if on cue, the moment their hands met the band launched into Aretha Franklin's 'Freedom' and that was it. To Millie's astonishment, he whirled and twirled her relentlessly, spinning all thoughts of family and friction out of her head until all that was left was him, her and the music. They laughed and danced and laughed through several song changes. From time to time they would pair off with other partners who came close enough to break into their world but it would never be long before they came back together, unable to stay apart. Only Ben, who made good on his promise to make Max jealous, kept her away for more than one song and it earned him a narrow-eyed suspicious stare from Max as he reclaimed her possessively. Finally, gasping for breath, they staggered away from the dance floor while the band also took a break.

"I had no idea you had that in you!" Millie exclaimed when she was able to speak again. She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him excitedly. "Why have you been hiding that you can dance?"

For a moment it stabbed at him that his dancing ability was the least of his secrets, but he recovered quickly and shrugged. "Doesn't suit my image. Wouldn't want anyone to think I'm fun, would I?"

"You can be so silly."

"Much as I would like to stay here and be mocked by you, I really must take a leak. And then a drink before we do it all over again."

"Can't wait," she let him go this time with a broad smile. She felt energised and strong, she didn't care that Ola was watching with that foul expression tshe always seemed to wear when Millie was around. In fact Millie made a point of strutting straight past her towards the bar, tossing back her hair with defiance.

******

Millie was almost delirious at shaking off Ola's projected sourness, so much so that she didn't notice who was standing at the bar initially obscured by a group of Tara's friends. They nodded amiably at Millie but wandered off presumably to join Tara elsewhere and she was momentarily shocked to find herself standing beside the subject of her earlier search. Seeing the woman in profile close up knocked the edge off her own confidence.

"Hi, are you Katya?" asked Millie shyly, intimidated by the other woman's elegantly cool poise in a room full of strangers. Of course, she knew exactly who the woman was, but it seemed the easiest way to open the conversation. The woman turned to face Millie and smiled enigmatically.

"Are you Millie?" she responded without answering the question, holding out her hand which Millie found herself automatically shaking. "Katya Pelczynska-Helmsley. I'm pleased to meet you, at last." Millie wondered which of the Carter family had been talking to Katya about her. Seeing her confusion, Katya continued, "Ola and Barry told me you've been seeing Max for quite a while now."

"Oh, yeah. We live together now."

"I know," Katya drained her drink and placed it on the bar. A barman immediately appeared and without even looking at him, Katya dismissively asked for another vodka and tonic, indicating to Millie with a wave of her professionally manicured hand to add her order.

"Gin and tonic, slimline please. Thanks." She turned back to Katya. "So, Max said you are his foster sister."

"Did he? Well, yes, I suppose I am. I went to live with the Carters as a teenager, after my parents died. They're my only family, in this country anyway."

"You're Polish origin as well then?"

"My mother and Ola grew up together, came to this country together but went their separate ways when my mother married and she went up north with my father."

"You don't sound very northern."

Katya laughed, "well, I used to. But when my sixth form teachers told Ola that I should apply for Oxford, she was determined to knock the north out of me so I had elocution lessons, and _et voila!_ She was right and I took my place at Christchurch college to read law."

"Oh, I see," nodded Millie, not knowing what to make of any of this.

"Shall we sit? Get to know each other a little?"

"Um, yes. I'd like that," _I think_, thought Millie.

******

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm in corporate law, in the City. It's very dull, but incredibly well paid, so I guess it's not all bad. The Louboutins alone make it worth it." She took a sip of her drink, eying Millie over the rim of the glass. "I understand you work with Max."

"I used to, that's how we met, but I'm at a different station now. It got really hard to work in the same place and keep being together a secret. We didn't want to deal with all the comments and jokes until we were really sure about, you know … us."

"You didn't or he didn't?" asked Katya with barely raised eyebrows. _Her forehead doesn't crease,_ thought Millie with guilty pleasure. _Botox!_

"Oh, both of us. He always said that he wasn't worried if it all came out, but I think that's only because he can be too arrogant to care what anyone else thinks."

"Now that I can believe of our Max," she replied, slipping into broad Burnley with a laugh.

Millie giggled, they were really getting on well. Surely Ola would have to look favourably on her now. "Tell me, what was he like as a boy? You must have some great stories."

************

Max was on a high. At least he was until he was cornered by Richard Brown, keen to introduce him to Millie's aunt and uncle from New Zealand in London for the party and then a caravan tour of Scotland afterwards. _Please no, not another caravan holiday_, he thought to himself. But he did his best to feign interest in their plans, nodding at the appropriate places and murmuring words of encouragement for their imminent adventure yet inwardly cursing Richard as he made the quick escape that he had clearly planned all along. As his attention wandered, Max saw Millie seated at the far end of the room laughing with someone hidden behind a group of girls. As they shifted away, his heart chilled. It was Katya and all he could do was watch. If he went over and pulled Millie away, she would harangue him until everything came out. He could only pray that for once in her life Katya would be merciful.

************

"So what made you decide to go to New York?" Katya sobered noticeably and Millie kicked herself for dampening the easy atmosphere that had developed between them.

"Oh, things. I had a great offer, big step up the ladder, amazing money. None of those were the real reasons though." She took a deep breath and paused. "I was in a bad relationship, a really, really bad relationship and had been for years and years, since I was a teenager actually. I couldn't get out of it. Each time I tried, he'd reel me back in with another excuse or promise and I'd believe him, I'd believe that he loved me. But then I fell pregnant. It was an accident. I got confused with my pill having just flown back from an overnight work trip to the States, stupid of me. He didn't want the baby, so he forced me to have a termination. He told me I'd be on my own if I went ahead with having it, that my family, the Carter's that is, would disown me and he would never see the child. So I had an abortion, I've never regretted anything more than that decision. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself, or him. But it was the catalyst I needed, then the job came up and I ran, ran for the hill so the phrase goes."

Millie listened to Katya's monologue, full of sympathy for her truly appalling ordeal. She couldn't ever imagine being in such a situation. "Oh my God. That's awful," her words felt terribly insufficient, but she really didn't know what else to say.

"I haven't seen him since that day at the clinic. Not that he came with me, but came to see me afterwards, to make sure I'd really done it."

"Bastard. He made you do that and let you go through it on your own. What kind of man would do that? Wasn't there anyone else you could turn to? I don't suppose Ola would have been much good."

"No, she is rather too Catholic for that sort of thing and it's hard to keep up with real friends in my line of work. The hours are just too long for a social life that doesn't involve drinks with clients. But anyway, here I am and it's all in the past, or so I thought." Katya looked away in sadly.

"Katya? What is it?" Millie reached out to touch Katya's arm reassuringly.

"When Ola asked me to join her here this evening, she didn't say whose party it was or who would be here. I certainly didn't expect to see … him."

"Him? He's here?" asked Millie with wide eyes brimming with concern. "Who is it? Tell me who he is and I'll … I'll make him leave."

Katya looked back at Millie steadily. "That's very sweet of you. Very … sweet. But it's not going to be as simple as that. You see, the man who got me pregnant, then forced me and left me to terminate our baby alone," she paused, "that man is your boyfriend."

* * *

A/N Just for the record, Katya's & Ola's opinions in no way represent my own … except with regard to Louboutin.


	8. Chapter 8

Max watched on as the two women talked, they looked relaxed and he started to wonder if maybe he was over reacting. But then their conversation turned serious, Millie touched Katya's arm and within seconds he knew his nightmare was coming true. Helplessly he stood rooted to the spot as Millie dropped her drink and moments later rose, blindly looking around her then staggering out of the room.

***

The glass slipped from her hand, thudding to the carpeted floor and spilling its contents over her boots. She was in a tunnel, the walls oppressively closing in on her and the noise of the party incoherently reverberating inside her head. The only clear sound came from the lips of the woman seated in front of her.

"So how well do you think you know him now?" All warmth was gone from her demeanour. Her eyes sparkled maliciously, taking savage delight in Millie's distress. "Max and I have been together since we were fifteen, there's nothing we haven't shared. Everything he's done with you, we'll have done time and time again. In fact," she paused, leaning in closer to Millie, "I've probably taught him everything he knows. No matter how we treat each other, we always end up together. Thank you for looking after him for me, but I'm back now and it's time for you to move on."

"I need to get some air," Millie mumbled, more to herself than Katya, shakily rising from her seat, her eyes struggling to focus enough to find the nearest exit. She stumbled, hindered by the table leg but just about managed to keep herself upright and with some semblance of dignity. She couldn't break down, not here in front of everybody, not in front of Katya and Ola. She needed to get out fast though, her hold on the anguish welling inside was weak and if anyone stopped her to ask what was wrong she wouldn't be able to keep it together. Millie felt rather than saw the worried glances from her friends but kept going towards the reception hall which would take her outside to where she could breathe.

***

Max could see exactly where she was headed and took the straightest line possible across the room, brushing against and shoving aside anyone in his path, ignoring their complaints and objections. He was within a few feet of Millie when he found Katya blocking his way.

"Max …"

"What did you say to her?" he demanded. Katya pouted, feigning injury from his tone. If he hadn't been in the mood for her games earlier, he really wasn't now, grabbing her upper arm tightly and shaking her. "What did you fucking say?" he hissed. This time Katya's pain was real and she cried out but still said nothing, refusing to meet his eyes. Max realised he was drawing unwanted attention to himself as well as letting Millie get further away. Cursing, he roughly pushed her aside causing her to fall back against the table and as onlookers gasped their surprise at the display, he turned and ran into the reception hall.

***

However, Millie was nowhere to be seen with nowhere obvious to hide.

"You looking for a girl? Short dress, red hair?" asked a disapproving African female voice from the cloak room.

"Yeah. Where?" The attendant nodded toward the large double doors leading outside. He rushed towards them and pulled one open. Ahead in the distance he could see a single figure almost at the gates of the driveway which led out to the main road beyond. The rain was teeming down, each drop splashing violently into large puddles forming on the gravel. _She'll be soaked,_ he thought, and turned back to the attendant fishing in his trouser pocket for the coat tickets, handing over the first one that his fingers found. The attendant retrieved his own coat and thinking it better than her flimsy excuse of a jacket, he took it and turned back to the doors. As he did, he found Ola standing next to Katya with Barry hovering behind them.

"Did you have something to do with this? Did you?"

Ola raised her chin defiantly. "She is no good for you. I know what is best."

"So that's why you turned up. To publicly humiliate Millie, using her," Max gestured at Katya, who at least had enough grace to look slightly shame-faced.

"Katya has given up everything in New York and come home to be with you and us. That slut …"

"Millie is not a slut. What the hell do you think Katya and I did for years? Hold fucking hands?"

"Now son, don't use language like that in front …"

"And when were you ever a father to me? When did you ever do anything to stop her for my sake?" Max glared at his father, trying to block out childhood memories that would serve no purpose now and then turned back to Ola, "You only see what suits you, this is all about what you want, about controlling me and her," jerking his head once again towards Katya, "I swear if what you've done tonight breaks up my relationship, I swear, I'll never see any of you again."

Ola remained impassive, the very image of her eldest son and clearly not believing a word he said. Katya however, tugged at his arm for his attention as he turned back towards the double doors. "Max, no! Don't go, please don't go! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I only went along with it because Ola told me that I'd never get you back any other way. I know I've hurt you before, but it's all in the past. Just give me another chance, you know we can be good together, I'll never …"

"Get away from me before I do something that I won't regret, but will get locked up for." Max ripped his arm out of her grasp and without looking back strode out into the rain.

***

Millie ran as fast as her heels would let her, barely noticing the rain as it mingled with the tears running down her cheeks. But when she came to the end of the drive and onto the road beyond she realised that she didn't know where to go next. She had no coat, no money, no keys, no phone. All her friends and family were back inside so even if she could find a taxi there was no one to go to. Yet she couldn't go back in. She needed time and space to make some sense of what Katya said and how Max's earlier reaction to her questioning now seemed to fall into place. She didn't want to make the connection between the two, but the more the details danced in her mind, the more convinced she became that there was truth to Katya's story. Millie looked around jerkily, disorientated by the street lights and the cars speeding past, splashing dirty rainwater onto her bare legs. She stepped out onto the road only to find a car hurtling towards her sounding its horn, she ran in fright, dashing into the metal barrier on the other side and clinging to it as she edged along the kerb towards a gap at the crossing further down the road. Sanctuary appeared in the form of a covered bandstand in the park ahead of her. She slipped in through the open entrance and made her way over through the wet grass. At least it was dry and there was a wooden bench to sit on, but she was cold. Starting to shake uncontrollably as emptiness vied with the cold for dominance, she wrapped her arms around her body in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking and the stabbing pain twisting in her heart.

***

It was Barry who first realised that the entire scene had had an audience. As well as the cloakroom attendant, Sondra had seen everything. Holding herself with her usual poise, she glided towards the group left in the wake of Max's departure. She first regarded Katya, now sobbing in Barry's arms like a spoilt child denied a new toy, but dismissed her, understanding completely where the centre of power in this triumvirate lay.

"I've never wanted to believe that any mother could intentionally damage their child. Yet you are living proof. My daughter and your son make each other happy, at least when they are allowed to without interference and it is your sole intention to destroy that happiness. For what reason, I couldn't possibly imagine." She spoke calmly, almost dispassionately.

Ola snorted derisively. "Happy! What is happy? Your daughter doesn't understand him …"

"Millie understands him well enough to love him more than I think you are capable of comprehending. And I know he feels the same way, despite your best efforts."

"I don't care …"

Sondra held up a hand for silence, the large diamonds on one finger and around her wrist glinting in the light, catching the magpie-like attention of Ola, who pursed her lips jealously.

"I'm well aware you don't care Mrs Carter." Sondra spoke firmly and turned her back on the trio before adding, "there's nothing more for you here. I suggest you leave, rest assured, I'll look after your son for you in future."


	9. Chapter 9

Max bolted out into the rain once more, the coat tucked under his arm to keep it as dry as possible. Water saturated his clothes within seconds as he splashed through puddles, rain running in rivulets down his face into his eyes and mouth, but he didn't care. He reached the gates and searched for any indication of where she might have turned. Voices in the distance coming from the park on the other side of the road alerted him to a silhouetted figure sitting in what appeared to be a covered bandstand. It had to be her. He crossed the road, dodging the cars hurtling past and leapt over the metal railings diving pavement from road, nearly losing his footing on landing, but his momentum kept him going in search of the park entrance.

The voices came from four kids, three of whom were struggling to carry a long wooden bench towards the bandstand, where they had evidently deposited one earlier. They were complaining amongst themselves that someone was sitting on the bench they had taken such effort to drag over, but were reluctant to confront the squatter. Max couldn't blame them, he wasn't sure what he was going to say either. He pulled out a few notes from his pocket and waved twenty pounds at the youngsters. "Piss off and get yourself some cider," he barked at them through the rain.

"Mate, we're only fourteen," one shouted back.

"Bacardi Breezers then, I don't fucking care, just piss off."

The boys looked at him mistrustfully, but the fourth member of the gang, a girl with her long hair tucked up into a baseball cap strode over and plucked the money from his fingers, a hint of suggestion in her swinging hips, clearly expecting the others to follow her. _Another Katya_, he thought to himself, _good luck to you boys, you'll need it_.

Max took a deep breath, getting here was the easy part. He knew from experience that when Millie was feeling unforgiving, she could be very hard to bring round. But as he climbed the few steps into the covered bandstand and out of the onslaught of the rain he was shaken by the sight of her. She was drenched and shivering, whether from cold or from shock he couldn't tell, but she looked defeated as she stared into the middle distance between them. Her hair hung either side of her ashen face in wet clumps, her carefully applied eye-make up now smudged over her cheekbones. Max had hoped that he would be able to stride over and sweep her up into his arms, but his normal assurance was gone. He gritted his teeth and summoned up some strength, holding out his coat for her to put on. She flinched away, finally acknowledging his presence. "Take it," he tried to sound authoritative but she didn't respond. "Millie, just bloody take it will you," he finally snapped, dumping it around her shoulders, "you'll get pneumonia out here dressed like that." He didn't intend to sound harsh, but frustration at being unable to control what was happening spilled over. If nothing else, he could at least protect her from the cold.

"What did she tell you?" he asked eventually, leaning against one of the bandstands posts, his hands thrust into his pockets.

"That you and she have been together since you were fifteen. Is that true?"

Max nodded slowly. "On and off, mainly off, and not exactly faithful when we were seeing each other. At least she wasn't. And when she wasn't, I wasn't either."

"How do you know?"

"She used to tell me."

Millie winced distastefully.

"What else did she say? That can't be all."

"That she fell pregnant a few years ago." Max nodded again, indicating that was true as well. "And that you forced her to terminate the pregnancy. That you wouldn't see her or the baby if she went ahead and had it."

"She said what?" he looked up from the floor sharply.

"You heard. Do I have to repeat it?" Millie looked away waiting for his reply, biting down on her lip to distract her from the pain. She knew how easily he made decisions that others would wrestle with. Could he emotionally blackmail a woman into terminating a pregnancy that didn't suit him?

Max shook his head. "It's not true. How could you believe that I would do that? Do you really think I'm that callous?" Max took a deep breath to calm himself. Katya had surpassed herself this time, planting this horror in Millie's mind. "I didn't know about the pregnancy until she had already gone ahead with the termination. I didn't, still don't, know if the baby was even mine. Like I said, she wasn't faithful."

"Really?" asked Millie sarcastically.

"Yes, really. The father could have been me, or one of her City boys, I'll never know. A month later she left for New York. I went to her flat to see how she was doing and her bags were packed, ready to go. I haven't seen or heard from her since, until tonight."

"So why didn't you tell me about her?"

"I wanted to forget it all and I didn't want to have to explain things which … which were difficult I suppose." He hung his ahead to avoid her questioning eyes.

"Difficult. Right," she paused and Max watched her warily from under his brows, she was just too calm for comfort. "I gave you everything of me. Told you everything. I thought you had done the same," her words came out as a whisper. "Not only do I now find out that you have a foster sister, but that you've been sleeping with her for years, that she's clearly been an important part of your life to the point where she was pregnant with your child and you didn't think that I ought to know?"

"Millie, I don't know if she was even really pregnant, let alone that it was mine, so I'm hardly likely to make a big deal out of it."

"Why would she lie about something like that?"

"Maybe because not everyone is good like you, Millie." His tone was curtly dismissive, derisive of her goodness. "Not everyone is as honest or kind or trusting." Each word felt like a stabbing insult to her, damning her as naïve and gullible. "People lie, and people like Katya make no distinction between lie and truth. They do and say whatever they want to get what they want, regardless of who gets hurt in the process."

"People like Katya? How about people like you?" Max turned away to hide his anger at how she had placed Katya and him firmly in the same camp. "If she is so dreadful, why did you spend years with her? Good in bed, I suppose?" Silence. "Thought so. Is that your only criteria for a relationship?" Unnatural spite crept into her voice and stung him into swinging back to face her again.

"It just kept happening, on and off for years. I was never able to break the cycle. Don't you think for a second that it is the same with you and me," he retorted with forced calm.

"Isn't it?"

"Is that what you really think? Is that what you really think of me?"

"I don't know what to think anymore" she wailed. Max stepped further away, unable to trust himself to not grab her and shake some sense into her head. Finally, she spoke again, this time in a quiet uncertain voice. "Do you love her?"

"No." Easy answer.

"Did you love her?"

"I … I don't know." Not quite so easy.

"You don't know?" she snapped, frustrated that he still couldn't be with her.

"No, I don't bloody know," he snapped back, "but I do know that what I felt for her isn't remotely similar to how I feel about you."

"That doesn't make anything clearer."

"For God's sake, why aren't you listening to me?"

"Because nothing I'm hearing makes any sense," she screamed, unable to hold herself in any longer.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked out across the park to the entrance, just about able to make out the tall lanky figure of Jasper following behind, he presumed, Becksy. He really was getting nowhere with Millie. She was too wrapped up in melodramatic despair to listen to him and he didn't know what else say that would make any difference. "I don't know what to do to convince you that all of this happened a long time ago, it's not relevant to us and I didn't want to drag it all out. Being with Katya isn't something I'm exactly proud of."

"But it is relevant, why can't you see that? Sure, you told me about Sarah, Karen, Sophie, Julia, Leah _and_ the others, but not her. Not Katya. Not the important one. Didn't I tell you never to lie to me? But you have been lying all this time."

Max stared at her, stunned that she could reel off a list of names at a time like this, she really did have amazing attention to detail, nothing ever forgotten. He struggled to remember them at the best of times and he'd been the one who had slept with them all.

"I haven't lied to you, I …" he turned away unable to justify himself anymore. It cut into him that she was refusing to even try to understand that he didn't want to taint their relationship with his past. Briefly he wondered if he should tell her everything, but almost immediately disregarded the notion. If he told her, she'd never feel the same way about him and her pity was the last thing he wanted. He could deal with anger, he'd always had to deal with anger but to have her pity repelled him. He made his decision. "I love you Millie. Why can't that be enough?"

"I don't know. But it isn't. I can't trust you," she responded bleakly, the realisation dawning on her that this could be the end of everything they had.

Her words wrenched the knife already thrust in him by Ola and Katya and he found himself bewildered at how easily they seemed to flow from her mouth. "I see. Well, I don't suppose there much else to say. I guess we both need some space, for tonight at least." He started to walk over to the other side of the bandstand. Becksy was on her way over so Millie wouldn't be alone and would be safe.

Millie watched him, not wanting to believe that he could leave her like this, but he'd left her before and she knew what he was capable of. "That's it, walk away from what you can't handle, like you did before. It's easier for you to do that than face the truth isn't it?"

Max stopped momentarily in his tracks, and half turned back towards her, the words echoing Katya's earlier that evening, but he kept going and left her sitting alone huddled beneath his coat.


	10. Chapter 10

_Tiny snippet in here for Faerienutmeg (if she is still reading on this site – where are you??) who once wondered what Jasper did that was so terrible._

***

Max stepped down from the bandstand, his feet sloshing through the waterlogged grass, his head bowed to avoid the now diminishing rain. But he couldn't quite escape Becksy's puzzled stare as she passed him on her way over to her friend, carefully picking her way around puddles in unsuitable shoes. Max gave a tiny shake of his head, he wasn't interested in talking, not to her, not to anyone right now. He could see Jasper standing at the entrance to the park, clearly intending to block his exit. Max resigned himself to some kind of showdown and kept going. The evening couldn't get much worse. The two men met almost chest to chest, albeit with a couple of inches difference in height, before Jasper took hold of Max's shirt and violently shoved him against the tall post of the open gateway. Max winced as his head hit the rough concrete, biting painfully into his scalp.

Jasper eyed him disdainfully at close distance. "I don't know what you've done, but I warned you before never to hurt her again." Max held his gaze but remained silent, this was nothing to do with anyone but Millie and him and he had no intention of justifying himself to anyone else, not that he'd done a good job of that with Millie. "It's been three years, seven months and two weeks since I last beat someone to a pulp and I swore I'd never do it again, for Becksy's sake. But now, well now I'd gladly fall off the wagon to make you an exception," chilling menace crept into his voice.

"Jasper! Put him down!" Becksy commanded from the darkness of the park. "He's not worth it."

"Hmm." Jasper sighed with frustration. "As ever, my girlfriend is right of course. You're not worth going inside for, but even so, I've never been more tempted."

"Jasper! Come here."

Normally Max knew he would have made a sly comment about Jasper's position firmly under Becksy's thumb, but he found himself not caring enough to open his mouth. Yet even so he couldn't help feeling envious of the devotion these two mismatched characters had for each other, despite their own difficult history. With a final hard stare, Jasper gave Max another vicious shove against the post, evidently gaining satisfaction from being able to inflict some pain without actually defying his girlfriend's instructions and released him, leaving him to follow Becksy's path to join Millie.

"Mills, what's happened?" Where is Max going?"

Millie looked up at her friend. "I think it's all over," she answered bleakly.

"What's all over? You and Max? Don't be silly, whatever it is, it can't be that bad." She dropped down next to Millie on the bench and pushed her damp hair behind her ears.

"Well, try this. The woman with his Mother at the party is the foster sister that he has never mentioned, not only that, but they have some kind of twisted relationship going back years, again, that he has never told me about, and to top it all he got her pregnant and then forced her to have an abortion." Becksy looked back at Jasper who had now joined the two women with wide eyes. Jasper's gave her a look which said 'told you something was going on with those two.' He was rewarded with a stern frown from Becksy for his smug satisfaction.

"Who told you all this?"

"She did," said Millie tonelessly, staring into space.

"And what did he say?" Millie didn't respond. "What did he say, Millie? You can't just take her word …"

"He said it was true" Millie interrupted her. "He only stopped seeing her when she left to work in New York."

"And the abortion, did he force to do it?" Millie looked away. "Millie, talk to me."

"He says not, but I don't know if I believe him. He's done things that you don't know about, what's one more death on his conscience, one more destroyed life?" Becksy regarded Millie aghast, not just at what Millie believed her boyfriend could do but also at her willingness to believe it.

"Look, you know I think he's a wanker, but," Jasper drew heavily on his cigarette, "not even I think he'd do that." Becksy turned her head round to peer up at her boyfriend with annoyance. "What? He's a tosser, anyone will tell you that. I've never understood what Mill sees in him."

"You're not helping. Shut up and bring the car round. We can't stay here all night."

"I don't want to go back to the flat. He'll be there and I don't want to face him."

"Don't you think you need to talk …"

"No. Not yet."

Becksy sighed. "Well, you can stay with us, but it'll be a squeeze. Or we can take you back to your parents place. But in either case we will have to go back to the flat to get some things for you, at least to tide you over until the morning anyway." Millie was too tired and confused to argue anymore, instead she nodded wearily, to Becksy's satisfaction. "Jas, are you still here? If we're to avoid bumping into Max, we'll have to get a move on."

***

Max walked the streets for what felt like hours. His direction was aimless, his mind focused on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other, having finally given up asking himself over and over why Millie wouldn't listen to him. It was several minutes after leaving the park before he realised that not only had he left his jacket with Millie, but in it his keys, wallet and phone. He had no way of getting home over five miles away, other than on foot and when he got there no key to get in with, assuming that she wouldn't be there. And even if she was there, he figured that he shouldn't be, having meant it when he said they both needed space. Had he retrieved his wallet he could have stayed in a hotel, but without it he was stuck. At least the rain had stopped and if he kept walking he wouldn't catch his death of cold. Resigning himself to spending the night roaming the streets, he kept going. It was chucking out time and crowds spilled from the pubs, heading for taxi ranks and clubs that would continue to fuel the night. He dodged drunken girls leering at him for attention and men looking for a fight. Acknowledging none, he might just as well have been the only man in London. Eventually his feet took him away from the main roads and streets, into quieter residential areas. Shouting gave way to the quiet murmurs of couples he passed, huddling together cosily for warmth, but he looked away, not wanting to compare his isolation to them. Yesterday he would have been one half of one of them, perhaps smugly noting the lone figures that pretended not to see the happiness of others basking in their mutual adoration.

His awareness was pricked when he turned into a street of once white but now pollution grey Georgian terrace houses. He stopped for a moment as he delved into his memory to recall why the street was familiar and finding the reason, continued along the pavement searching for the building front that would match the picture in his head. Nearly reaching the end of the road he found it and after a brief moment of hesitation made his way down the steps to the basement level of the house to ring the doorbell. He could hear sounds of life inside, but it was a minute or so before he knew there was someone on the other side of the door, eventually opening to reveal the dressing gown clad figure of Stevie Moss staring at him in surprise.

"Max?" she decided that middle of the night visits were not likely to be about work and therefore informality was probably acceptable, although with Max you could never be sure. "What are you doing here?" She peered closer. "You look awful."

"Thanks. Can I come in?"

"Umm, well, yeah I guess. Give me a moment though." She left the door ajar but nipped back to close another door in the flat, he presumed to her bedroom. Returning, she pulled the door open to indicate that he was welcome to step inside.

"I need somewhere to stay, only for tonight," he stated, intentionally without pointless preamble.

"Oh, um …"

"Please. I wouldn't ask unless…" he trailed off, loathing himself for sounding pathetic.

"Max, it's fine," Stevie assured him kindly, "although I can only offer you a rather lumpy sofa bed. You'll have a really bad back in the morning." She smiled at him, hoping to get him to smile back, but he was miles away. She touched his arm to get his attention. "Do you want to tell me what's happened? I mean, I'm not trying to pry, but if you want to talk …"

"Millie and I, we've had an argument, that's all. We'll sort it out in the morning, but we both need a bit of space tonight. I'd have checked into a hotel, but I left my wallet with her."

"I see, relationships, eh? They're not meant to be easy," she said softly. "You're soaking wet. Look, I'll see if I can rustle up some spare clothes, give those a chance to dry out, and get some blankets for you. You pull out the sofa bed. Don't be gentle with it, it'll need a good hard yank, hasn't been used for ages." Stevie disappeared back through the sitting room door and out of sight. As he forced the uncooperative sofa out into a bed, he heard muffled voices, punctuated by a surprised 'what?' and although he couldn't make out to whom the male voice belonged, it was definitely familiar. Max took in the room around him, cluttered and bordering on untidy, it was his idea of hell where everything might have a place but never actually managed to make it there. He thought of the flat he shared with Millie. She wasn't quite as fanatically tidy as him, and he'd had to adjust, they both had, but it had worked. Had worked. Even in his mind their relationship was taking on a past tense already.

***

Millie blinked as the bright spotlights of the flat momentarily blinded her before she remembered to turn the dimmer switch. She looked about her, wondering how everything could look the same yet be so different. She knew she was right to get away tonight, away from the scene of happiness that she no longer believed in. As each minute passed, the knowledge that Max had lied to her and hidden so much about his life sank deeper into her heart. She didn't love him any less and that made it hurt all the more. He had told her that he loved her, but to Millie it was love only on his terms, love that kept her in the dark, at a distance. If he couldn't give all of himself to her, how could she trust him with all of herself? She couldn't. She wasn't the type to be able to accept half measures, it had to be all or nothing. Was that really so unreasonable?

She found herself still clutching his jacket as if she was subconsciously trying to retain something of him. She forced herself to drape it over the back of a chair, adjusting it so that it hung correctly from the shoulders and smoothing out the sleeves so that it would dry evenly. Even now, she couldn't stop herself from wanting to look after him, using the coat as a substitute, however irrational. With her fingers lingering on the fabric, she turned away and walked silently past the concerned faces of Becksy and Jasper into the bedroom.

The white sheets were still rumpled after their earlier hurried departure, Max's dark tie still snaked through the folds, the headboard was still broken. Millie couldn't bring herself to tidy it, by doing that she would somehow erase their last blissful afternoon together and that was a step too far. She sat on the edge of the bed and removed first her boots and then her beloved dress replacing it sadly on its hangar, running her fingers over the leather, remembering how his eyes had darkened as he had done the same thing as it clung to the contours of her body. Stifling a sob, she grabbed the first jumper and pair of jeans that her hands found, dragging on socks and sheepskin boots.

Millie mechanically collected her bathroom essentials into a bag. She would normally add his toothbrush, shaving things and shower gel when they stayed at her parents' house, but this time she left them behind. She felt the gulf between them widening, unable to turn back time and stop it from happening in the first place.

"Millie? Are you ready? We should go." Becksy poked her head round the bathroom door. Millie nodded, pulled the light switch to plunge the room into darkness behind her and followed Becksy into the sitting room.

"I should leave a note. He'll worry otherwise," murmured Millie absently, almost as if she was unexpectedly popping out for the day rather than leaving her boyfriend. Shock was setting in and nothing felt real.

"I'd bloody like to give him something to worry about, something like a broken leg perhaps," muttered Jasper.

"Jasper!" admonished Becksy. "Take Millie's bag and start the car." Millie had found pen and paper and after several moments of indecision she settled on simply 'Have gone to stay with Mum and Dad, I'll call you.' It seemed insufficient after what had happened, but she had no idea what else to write.

"Ready?" asked Becksy softly. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I'm ready." Millie took a last look around her flat which had become unquestionably their home. She turned and fled, leaving Becksy to switch off lights and lock up, before she broke down.

***

Max was still lost in his thoughts when Stevie returned somewhere under a pile of sheets, blankets and pillows which she dumped on the mattress and set about making up the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had someone here, maybe I should go," but the uncharacteristic melancholy in his voice tugged at Stevie.

"Oh don't worry about him, he'll get over it. Here, take these." She handed him a t-shirt and boxer shorts which Max took gingerly. "Yes, they're his, but you're in more need of them for now. And yes, they're clean before you get fussy, which I might remind you you're in no position to be." It took some effort, but Max managed to raise a small smile at her attempt to mother him. "If you sling your things over the radiator, they should be dry enough by the morning. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Okay, well the bathroom is next door. I'll leave you to it."

Max nodded and she stepped back towards the door. "Stevie?"

"Yes?"

He paused, wanting to tell her what had happened, because there was no one else he could tell, but he didn't, he couldn't. "Thanks." Stevie gave him a sympathetic smile before she closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the room.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"He's had an argument with Millie apparently and needed somewhere to stay."

"Great. Why here? I suppose you're not going to be up for much with him in the next room then."

"Is that all you think about?"

"Yes," replied Smithy sullenly.


	11. Chapter 11

Max soon found that Stevie hadn't been joking about how uncomfortable the bed was. It also reminded him of how much he hated wearing anything in bed, let alone someone else's boxer shorts. He tossed and turned trying to find comfort, but as well as the mattress doing it best to torture his body, the events of the evening tumbled about inside his head, tormenting him from within as well. He couldn't let go of Katya's malevolence and his mother's sadistic rule over her family. Millie had been their chosen victim and they had taken him down with her as some kind of twisted punishment for finding happiness outside the fold. Even the memory of his last moments in bed with Millie haunted him. Allowing her to take complete control of his body by binding his hands had been a shock to him, having never imagined he could permit a woman to be in command of him. Katya had been his only weakness and more than enough to convince him never to let another to have a similar hold. But it was different with Millie. She may have playacted the dominatrix but he knew she did so with a love that kept him safe, at least he'd thought so at the time.

As dawn broke, he was surprised to find that he had slept when he was woken by the sound of the front door thudding shut and heavy boots climbing the steps outside his makeshift bedroom. A few minutes later, Stevie knocked on the door calling out for confirmation that he was decent before entering with two mugs of coffee.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, better than I thought I would."

"So, what now? Do you want me to give you a lift home?"

Max sighed. Home. What would he find there? "No, thanks anyway. I need to get my spare keys from the station and I'll get a cab from there."

***

At her parents' comfortable home, where nothing bad could touch her, Millie slept soundly, albeit with they aid of another of Sondra's magic pills. Yet when she woke, groggy and confused with her head pounding, she briefly wondered if the previous night had been a drink induced nightmare. She felt more alone than she had ever been, even more so than after Max had left her to go to Poland. This was worse because they had begun to build a real life together, based on mundane and ordinary routine rather than the first flush of love and lust, although that was still there. Like the last time she had slept in this bed, with him. She sat up and immediately saw herself in the freestanding mirror. The reflection was nothing like that night. In the gloom of her curtain darkened room her face was drawn, her hair already lank and lifeless, she couldn't be further away from the glowing sensual woman that he had shown her to be as he forced her to watch herself through his eyes, to see what he had told her he loved so much. She felt sick. Sick at the sight of herself, sick at her gullibility, sick that she had fallen for the veneer of perfection he had created and she so wanted to believe in. The bile rose within her and she retched, clutching at her stomach, the memory of him kneeling behind her in the mirror so powerful that she could see the scene, her hand, his hand, the intense drama in their submission to each other. She dragged herself from the bed and stumbled towards the mirror, grasping it with shaking hands and heaved it clumsily towards the door, banging noisily against the wardrobe as she struggled with it. The door flew open to reveal her father, horrified and helpless at the hysterical form of his daughter.

"Get it out! I don't want it in here! Get it out!" she shouted, her words came between deep shuddering gulps of air. Richard froze in the doorway, appalled by the sight and relieved when Sondra pushed past him to wrest Millie away from the mirror.

"Richard, take it away please," she instructed calmly. He hesitated, "Richard, now please." Thankful to be given an escape route, he did as he was told while Sondra collected Millie into her arms and guided her back down to sit on the bed.

***

Little more than an hour after leaving Stevie, Max walked into the flat, empty as he suspected although with evidence that she had returned at some point. His coat hung neatly over the back of a chair and a note lay on the dining table. Anger rose in him as he read the scrawled words and he scrunched it into a ball, throwing it against the wall. The anger was directed at everyone. At Millie for not believing that his love was enough to her, at Katya for returning and once again screwing up his life, at his mother for orchestrating it all, but mostly at himself for not seeing it coming and preventing it. He went through to the bedroom, exactly as it was when he left it yesterday except that her boots lay in the corner and her dress hung on the front of the cupboard. He peered into the bathroom, empty of her toothbrush and skincare bottles, leaving his things looking sparse and lonely in their untouched positions. Grabbing his toothbrush, toothpaste and towel, he took them to the other bathroom in the flat, where there were no reminders of Millie's absence to stab at him.

***

It took a few minutes, but gradually Millie's breathing slowed and within the embrace of her mother the mess in her head settled.

"What was that all about, darling?" Millie shook her head mutely, it was hardly something to discuss with your mother, no matter how close the bond might be. "Okay, it doesn't matter," Sondra stroked her daughter's hair, tucking it behind her ears tenderly. "Why don't you come downstairs and have some breakfast? A cup of coffee will do you the world of good."

"I thought … how could … how could he keep all that from me? Everything has been a lie."

"I don't know darling, but I'm sure there is more to it that you know. His mother," Sondra shuddered, "has much to answer for I fear. You need to talk to him, let him explain."

"I can't Mummy," Millie whispered, regressing to childhood language. "I'll fall apart and this time I don't think I'll be able to put myself back together again."

***

Sunday morning with nothing to do but wait for her to call. He tried to turn his attention to yesterday's newspapers but the words blurred meaninglessly in front of his eyes. Unable to hang about waiting impotently any longer, Max headed back to the station. There was always paperwork to do and it would at least keep him distracted from staring at the clock. However, by late afternoon there was still nothing from Millie and it was killing him not to hear her voice, not knowing what she was thinking but suspecting none of it would be good. They weren't the type of couple to feel the need to speak to each other every few hours, but each knew the other was always at the end of the phone. Except not this time. She'd made it clear in her note that she would call him, keeping him at arm's length. Several times he had picked up his mobile to send her a text message, but each time had put it down again forcing himself to play by her rules. Eventually though, he caved in and midway through a half-hearted effort at Terry Perkins' performance appraisal form, he threw down his pen and rose from his desk. If she wouldn't contact him and he didn't think she would answer his call, then he would have to go to her. He would go to her, make her see sense and drag her back home if that's what it took.

***

He pressed the buzzer at the gate, and after a few seconds Sondra's unmistakable 'hello' came through the small speaker.

"Hello Sondra, it's me."

"Max?"

"Yeah, can I come in? I need to talk to Millie."

"Oh darling," she sighed loudly. "Stay there, I'll come down to you." Max was taken aback. He'd never been denied access to the Brown house, but of course he was the villain of the piece and it was only natural that she would protect her daughter from him. A minute or so later, Sondra emerged from the house, swathed in her trademark cashmere wrap. She looked worried and upon reaching him placed a hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze that told him she hadn't taken sides.

"Where's Millie?"

"She's sleeping, well she was earlier I think. She hasn't been out of her room since she came home."

"Has she told you what happened?"

"A little. She's feeling very confused and I don't blame her. Not that I blame you either," Sondra shook her head sorrowfully. "I should never have insisted on inviting your family to the party. I'm sorry, I should have realised that you had doubts for a reason, but I see you as part of our family and didn't understand …" she trailed off.

"Can I see her?"

"Not today, Max. I don't think you'll get much sense out of her. She took a couple of sleeping pills so is rather groggy even when she is awake. Give her another day or two to come round. I'm sure it will all work itself out. I'll tell her that you were here and I promise I'll do everything I can to get her to talk to you so you can clear up this mess."

"I don't believe this is happening. She's over-reacting to something that was all over so long ago." Frustration got the better of him and he shoved hard against the wooden gate separating them but was instantly contrite as he noticed Sondra's sharp intake of breath. "I'm sorry, Sondra." He ran a hand through his hair and looked away so that she wouldn't see the despair that he was feeling. "I need her," Max's voice cracked.

"I know you do. And I know she needs you. But you must be honest with her, she's very idealistic about relationships. She has this image of perfection in her head that can't be sustained in real life, our fault I suppose." Sondra looked rueful for a moment, before turning her focus back to Max. "She still has a lot to learn, you need to be patient with her."

***

Millie watched from her window. She watched him shake the gate, she watched him walk away after looking up at the house, certain that he saw her. But he left without a fight, so why had he bothered to come at all? As his car disappeared out of sight, it occurred to her that she was being irrational. What did she expect? That he would storm the gates, kick down the door and beg her to get in the car with him? No, she didn't expect it, she thought wretchedly, but it was what she wanted.

***

Max felt strangely disappointed on entering the flat and finding it still the same as when he had left that morning. No smell of burning rice or over cooked vegetables. No Sunday papers strewn over the coffee table. No music. He'd give anything to walk in to the sound of Florence wailing away from the iPod speakers right now, no matter how much he would complain about the awful noise she made in his opinion. Switching on the television, he tried to watch a repeated comedy show, but finding nothing to laugh about, he turned it off after a couple of minutes. When Millie was on a night shift he wouldn't normally be in bed before midnight, but today couldn't be over soon enough. He rose from the sofa and took a step towards their bedroom but unable to bear the prospect of sleeping there with her scent lingering on the sheets and stray strands of red hair reminding him that she was gone he turned and slowly made his way into the spare room where there was only a small framed photograph of the pair of them on holiday. He held it for a moment, wondering if perhaps this was all inevitable, that maybe he was never destined to have a normal relationship, that he didn't deserve it.


	12. Chapter 12

Songs featured – 'Ain't no sunshine' live version by Gomez, specifically the version recorded for Dermot O'Leary's BBC Radio 2 show; 'Cosmic Love' by Florence & the Machine.

***

The days that followed for Max merged into a seemingly endless cycle of rising at dawn, working out in the gym with only the staff for company followed by an early start at the station and working as long as he could before heading home to darkness. Twice, Meadows ordered him home well after eight o'clock, having put in over fourteen hours each time, but rather than take his advice he punished himself with yet another shift at the gym. Even his personal trainer commented that the punch bag was getting far more attention than usual as she walked by one evening. Max had glanced at her but didn't allow the interruption to break his rhythm. He punctuated the hours of each day by texting a few words to Millie, usually along the lines of 'I miss you,' 'please talk to me' or simply 'come home' and even tried to leave a voicemail message several times, but found himself without words at the automated prompt to speak. Each text remained unanswered, ignored and each night he returned home to the increasingly normal silence.

He thought his week couldn't get much more depressing on Thursday when after loading the washing machine he realised that he had no idea what programme to set it to. Having accidentally shrunk one of her jumpers, Millie never let him touch it again, so that he didn't ruin any more of her clothes. She drew the line at ironing though, he was on his own there. He stared at the control panel of the machine blankly, a series of dials and buttons, not one of which read 'shirts, pants and socks', then sorted through a couple of drawers for instructions before giving up. Not believing that Millie would answer her phone, he called the house instead, praying for Sondra rather than Richard and breathing a sigh of relief when she spoke.

"What are you washing, darling?" she asked patiently as if she was talking to a toddler.

"A few shirts, mainly," he muttered, shuffling his feet and feeling pretty childish.

"Anything silk or woollen?"

"No," but her words immediately made him think of Millie's silk gown in their bedroom, still draped across the chair where she had left it.

"Turn the main dial to 'G' and press half load."

"Thanks … how is she?" unable to stop himself asking.

"Not so good, but I have persuaded her to go in to work tomorrow. Hopefully that will help her to snap out of this stupor."

Max took a deep breath and exhaled. "Oh, right."

"I'll tell her you called, Max."

With nothing more to say, he rang off, the conversation leaving him deflated and facing the same dead end. If she could go in to work, then surely she should be able to call him. He wondered just how much more he could take.

Three days later, one week and one day after the party, and without any response from Millie to his endless stream of messages during that time, Max had to do something. He had to try again. He drove to Epping, fixed on his determination to see her, irritably flicking from one radio station to another as they competed to play tracks most likely to worsen his mood. He thought 'Ain't no sunshine when she's gone' was the worst, but 'Cosmic love' produced a double whammy, not only being one of Millie's favourites but also because the lyrics resonated so brutally that it was a relief to arrive at his destination. With an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu he pressed the buzzer at the gate, this time it opened, allowing him to continue up the gravelled driveway to the house. He trod the familiar path to the side door, leading to the kitchen and Sondra inside.

"Come in darling." Max entered, carefully stepping around Charlie who had darted forward to greet him excitedly and was doing his best to trip him up.

"Thanks. Is she around?" he asked awkwardly, more nervous than he'd ever been. He leant down to stroke the dog in an attempt to disguise his nerves.

"I'm afraid not. Becksy and Jasper dropped in and dragged her to the pub for a drink. If I'd known you were coming …"

"It's okay, I should have called first I suppose." But it wasn't okay. If she could go out with her mates and go back to work why the hell didn't she have the decency to face him?

"I think it's a good start," Sondra continued positively, he realised she was hoping to give him encouragement, "she hasn't said much, but I believe her shifts have gone well although she didn't leave the station from what I can gather."

"Right."

"Max, Becksy will talk sense into her you know."

"Yeah," Max jerked his head in the briefest of nods, knowing that he wasn't fooling Sondra for a second with his feigned confidence.

"Would you like to wait? Something to eat?"

"No. No I won't. Thanks Sondra. I'll … um … see myself out." He turned and left, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he angrily stormed back to the car, his hands jammed into his pockets to stop himself from punching something, anything. He slid in and hit the steering wheel hard, slamming his head back into the headrest. She was taking him for a fool, assuming he would hang around waiting for her to deem it the moment right to pick him up again. He'd bombarded her with messages all week, declared his love, his devotion, his wish to explain so that she would understand and they could move on. But in response she'd given him nothing. It was all so familiar, but he'd never believed it possible of her. He should have known better.

Max drove through the dusk lit streets of outer London with a grimness that threatened to overwhelm him. Being forced to follow a diversion because of roadworks, he found himself waiting at traffic lights outside The White Hart, the pub where Millie and he used to meet and where he ended their relationship before leaving for Poland. It seemed as though the fates had drawn him here for their own game. He parked and went inside to order a drink and get a pack of cigarettes from the vending machine before heading out into the garden with his guilty stash. Somehow by smoking he felt himself defying Millie and denying her influence over him, influence that Katya had smugly noted. But he couldn't quite bring himself to light up because then he would be falling back into Katya's trap and he was never going back there again. With his fingers still twitching anxiously over the sealed pack, he noticed a woman joining him in the otherwise empty garden, heading directly for his table. He watched her walk towards him over the rim of his pint glass.

"Hi, do you have a light by any chance," she waved her unlit cigarette as the reason for her approach.

"Umm, yeah. Sure." The woman couldn't have been less like either Millie or Katya with cropped bleached blonde hair and petite features to match her tiny frame. Not his type at all, and yet he couldn't help feeling why not? Why not let her make a move, if that's what she wants?

He picked up his lighter to offer it to her but she gestured at him to do the honour. A breeze flickered the flame making it necessary for her to lean in closely to him, her hand on his as he shielded it.

"Alone?" she looked at the evidence of his solitude on the table.

"Yeah."

"May I?" she nodded towards the bench he straddled.

Max shrugged and she sat down next to him, not close enough that she was touching, but close enough that he could smell her perfume. It stuck him as odd that he was surrounded by women probably wearing perfume every day, but he never noticed, only ever registering when Millie applied one of her favourites lined up on the shelf in their bedroom, carefully kept in their boxes as her Mother had taught her. This woman however smelt sweet, too girlish for her age, which was definitely on his side of thirty.

"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Nah, just in the process of making a few decisions, that's all."

"Girlfriend, wife, or," she took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled away from him, "both?" Max looked at her, surprised at her brashness. "Sorry, not having a great day myself. I'm Amy, by the way." She held out a hand, which he took and shook.

"Max."

"Pleasure to meet you Max, and thank you for the er…" she gestured with her cigarette as they lapsed into silence.

"Boyfriend, husband, or both?" Max had to ask eventually.

"Well now, that's where it gets awkward," she leant forward slightly so that he caught her perfume on the breeze once again, "he is, or rather was, my boyfriend, but is still her husband."

"Oh. Doesn't sound too good."

"Nope, it doesn't, does it? He ends three years with me and she is none the wiser."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Amy shook her head in sorrow. "No. Where would it get me? It's his lie, not mine. That's up to him and his conscience." She took a deep breath. "Time to move on, forget it. That's my plan." She took another drag.

"Really? As simple as that?" He demanded, feeling irrationally angry that anyone could honestly move on so quickly from a three year relationship, trying not to imagine Millie was doing the very same thing right now. Amy bit her lip and looked down at the ground, clearly distressed. "Oh God, I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay," she reassured him, "anyway what about you? What's your story?"

"It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

"I suppose so," he fiddled with the unopened cigarettes, "I haven't been completely honest with my girlfriend, I skipped over a few details of the past here and there and she isn't happy about it. In fact, I think she has left me."

"What did you do?"

Max shook his head. "Nothing, at least I don't think so. I didn't tell her about a bunch of family stuff and an ex-girlfriend. A very ex-girlfriend with a very twisted sense of perspective. That's all. I don't understand why she's taken it so badly," he paused thoughtfully. "Maybe we're not as strong together as I thought we were. I don't even know if we are still together, certainly doesn't feel like it right now." Max furrowed his brow as he stared at his glass, wishing he could find some answers in it, or at least the solace that alcohol was supposed to contain. Instead, he felt Amy's hand rest on his thigh, her fingers gently pressing into his flesh through his jeans. He looked up at her and it seemed to be the only encouragement she needed to lean in towards him.

"No strings," she whispered. "It seems that maybe we could both do with … some distraction, for tonight at least."

He wondered if he should pull away, her intention was perfectly clear, but he didn't and she took it as further invitation to close the gap between them. She closed her eyes as she lightly brushed her lips against his. Instinctively he parted his lips, allowing her to increase the pressure and taking his lower lip seductively between hers. Still, he didn't respond beyond that, frozen somewhere in what could only be a surreal dream. He felt her tongue dip into his mouth seeking to play with his as her fingers worked their way further along his thigh. He waited for his heart to beat a little faster, for his breath to come a little quicker, but neither happened. She was attractive and before Millie he knew he would have been more than happy to take up her offer of herself, without strings, and take her home. Her fingers continued further, finally coming to rest on the placket of his jeans, then nothing as she withdrew from him slowly.

"I know I said no strings, but you still have to participate." Amy regarded him sadly. "I'm sorry, but my self-esteem's at rock bottom already and I don't think it can handle even more battering." She swung her leg back over the bench and stood, her expression regretful as she stroked his cheek kindly. "I hope you sort yourself out soon, one way or the other. Good luck, Max."


	13. Chapter 13

If ITV & TT are not much interested in owning TB, then it's a free-for-all. I'm laying first claim on Max ...

With thanks to Feebee for her much needed pep talk. Umbrellas at the ready ...

***

Millie walked back into her parents' house shortly after nine to find her mother icing a cake in the kitchen and her father shouting angrily at the boxing on the television in the family room next door. A normal evening chez family Brown.

"Nice time, darling?" asked Sondra without looking up, immersed in applying rose sugared rose petals with tweezers.

"Not really" answered Millie morosely as she poured herself a glass of filtered water from the fridge. "I'm going to bed," stopping in her tracks in the doorway at her mother's audible sigh.

"Max was here just after you left. I hope you know what you're doing, darling."

***

If Millie had hoped for some moral support and affirmation that her reaction to Max's revelation was justifiable from her best friend, she returned home sorely disappointed.

"I still don't get it Millie. I don't get how you can be so in love a few days ago and now not even answer his messages." Millie turned away from Becksy who had been talking at her like this for at least half an hour. "I was with you, remember, when you bought that dress. You were so excited about him seeing you in it. You couldn't wait to see how he looked at you and what he would say. And, what he would want to do," she finished with raised eyebrows.

Millie buried her face in her hands. "Of everyone, Becksy, I expected you to understand." She paused while she fought to pull herself together and meet her friends steely gaze. "He has kept secrets from me from the start. He thinks I have no right to know about his past, he drip fed me what he wants me to know and left out the great chunks of his life that might be awkward to explain. And as for her, you saw her! How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? She's stunning, successful, tough and she knows everything about him. Everything. What do I know about him? How am I supposed to feel?"

"Betrayed I guess, but that doesn't mean that you can't let him explain."

"God, I can't get the idea of the two of them out of my head," Millie had gone on, "maybe she is right and he will always go back to her. Maybe I have only been the latest one in the line-up to fill the gaps."

"Oh would you listen to yourself? The man is nuts about you."

"She said …" Millie looked over at Jasper nervously.

"It's okay, I get it, I'm going out for a fag. This is going way over my head," he muttered in relief and disappeared out into the pub garden.

"She said," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "she said that everything he had done with me he'd done with her first. It was the way she said it, as though I'm nothing but a substitute while she was away, and an inferior one at that. What if she's right, even if he doesn't realise it yet? Now she's back why wouldn't he go back to her, if that is what has always happened?"

"Come on Millie, you're being irrational. I'm willing to bet anything that he is long over her but you need to let him talk so that you can understand why …"

"I gave him the opportunity …"

Becksy threw up her hands in exasperation. "Oh Millie, but that was when it all kicked off! No one would be thinking straight after that, let alone someone as repressed as him. You need to give him a chance now because if you keep ignoring him, eventually he's going to give up and think you don't care enough."

"I'm in this state because I care too bloody much!" Millie cried loudly enough to attract the attention of the next table. "I love him so much it hurts not to see him or touch him or talk and I'm scared that eventually he is going to go back to her …"

"So don't let him. Answer his next message Millie, just bloody answer it, before it's too bloody late."

***

Millie felt like she was in some kind of twilight world where day and night held little distinction. She'd managed two shifts at work but hadn't been allowed outside the station. With three others off with swine flu, her Inspector had been relieved just to have her back in, even if it was only to man the phones and stare listlessly at CCTV screens. He'd decided she looked so pale and wan that a harsh look from someone on the street might knock her over. She certainly wouldn't be any use on patrol. Still she had completed her shifts without tears and towards the end of the second even started to respond to the kindness of her colleagues with their constant offers of tea, coffee and jam doughnuts. It was strange however to drive back to Epping after each shift instead of back to the flat. Her body desperately wanted to turn left towards it, but her mind was stronger and each time forced the steering wheel to the right.

She lay in her bed, hoping that sleep would take her without having to resort to another pill but images crept into her mind. Removing the mirror had been pointless. Its reflection of that night was permanently etched into her memory along with so many others. The first time they slept together was the most vivid, the most compelling that even after all this time she could remember every detail. They had been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, for dinner, for breakfast and at each date the touching went further, the kissing deeper, their breathing shallower. It was after one night shift where Max had also been on duty that her resistance came to an end. He'd been particularly obnoxious to a relief short of a sergeant to organise them, taking it upon himself to bark the orders and deliver the recriminations at the scene of a fatal stabbing. Even Millie had been on the receiving end when she and Mel hadn't been standing exactly where he wanted them to be. As they left the station at the end of the shift, Mel had complained audibly to Millie about what a prick Max Carter was with Millie frankly unable to disagree, when Max had bounded down the stairs and called her back in officiously. She said her goodbyes to Mel with a grimace and turned back to face him.

"So, breakfast?" he asked cheekily after checking that no one was watching them or within earshot.

"Breakfast? Are you joking?"

"Why? I thought we arranged yesterday …"

"That was before you made this shift some kind of living hell."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm tired and I'm going home. Bye Max."

She knew he wouldn't understand, that he could be so completely caught up in his work that causing offence to colleagues was simply second nature behaviour. She was therefore totally dumbfounded when he appeared at her flat with a box from the local French bakery under one arm and holding a carrier with two cups of coffee in the other.

"Peace offering? I thought if you wouldn't come out for breakfast then I'd bring it over to you." He looked at her with such endearing uncertainty that her annoyance evaporated, together, she realised sighing, with any intention she might have had at holding out for a few more days at least.

Millie remembered taking the box and laying its contents on a plate, wishing she could summon up some appetite, even the delicious smell of the warm chocolate croissants did nothing for her. As though he could read her mind, his arms snaked around her from behind, pulling her body back against his.

"Was I really so bad?" he whispered as with one hand he swept her hair away from the back of her neck. By now he knew exactly how sensitive her nape was and had no scruples in taking advantage by pressing his lips against it, lightly at first but increasing the pressure as she struggled to maintain her coolness.

"Uh huh," she swallowed.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asked between kisses.

"What about Mel?"

"What about her?"

"How you plan to make it up to her as well? You were equally awful to her," she was aware her voice was weakening.

"Why? Do you want to give her a call and ask her over?" Millie spun round in his arms in horror to find him grinning madly at her. "I mean, she's not my type but if you really …"

"You …" she tried to interrupt but he silenced her words.

Back in the gloom of her bedroom, Millie squirmed as she remembered how Max had made her initiate the next move. He held her firmly to him, as she had become used to, and she assumed that he would manoeuvre her towards the sofa but frustratingly he didn't. His hands crept underneath the waist of her zip-through hoodie, and under the camisole vest beneath. Hands that were beginning to know her body, to know where to touch and how to touch, where to grip and where to caress and where to stop, just when she wanted more.

"The croissants are getting cold," he pulled away from her mouth and murmured into her ear, his breath against her skin serving only to heighten her dizziness.

"I can warm them up again later," she replied, ever practical.

"What about the coffee?"

"I can make more."

"Still tired?"

"Exhausted." She remembered how his cockiness faltered and confusion flickered in his eyes before she let him off the hook. "I need to lie down, want to join me?"

Moments later they sat facing one another on her bed, the layers of clothing peeled away, her legs draped over his thighs. Hands and lips began to explore new territory, eyes and ears alert to each other's response to every touch. Millie squeezed her eyes tightly shut in the dark, her lower lip trembling as the memories rushed back to her. She'd felt skittish as he slowly stroked her arms from fingertips to shoulders, not leaving an inch ignored or untouched, paying particular attention to the smooth tender skin of the crooks of her elbows, pressing his lips to the underside of her wrists, certain he could feel her pulse racing. Her breathing had grown ever more laboured as he turned his attention to her legs, from toes to thighs, slowly circling the skin behind her knees, then torturously skimming her inner thighs but stopping cruelly short of what she needed. Her eyes flitted between his and the scorching path of his fingers, wondering how her skin didn't show any marks where he touched. She had hardly been a virginal innocent, but his expertly delivered ministrations blew out of the water the now amateurish endeavours of every ex-boyfriend and she found herself clinging to his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh to simply stay upright. Every touch had been blissfully agonising leaving her increasingly desperate for more, wishing he would hurry up but terrified of the strength of the hunger for him building inside, already threatening to engulf her. Gathering her remaining wits she dipped her head to take possession of his mouth with hers and briefly rejoiced in her surprise conquest until he withdrew allowing a squeak of pained frustration to fly from her lips.

"Slow down," he had whispered. There's no need to rush. We've got all morning, and afternoon and well into the evening."

"But I'm working again tonight," she complained in desperation.

"I know. I'm going to make sure you'll need a lot of caffeine to get through your next shift."

"Bastard."

"And you love it." The return of his cockiness was enough to ignite the spark of fight in her.

"I told you, I'm tired. You're going to have to work very hard to keep me awake if …if you're going to take so long."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked blandly as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples to tight buds then languorously circling them eliciting a soft moan from his victim as she arched into him, her body begging for more. "What was that Millie? I can't hear you?" Her eyelids fluttered shut at the exquisite torment.

"Yes," she whispered, praying he wouldn't disappoint on his promise.

The tears fell as she remembered every detail of how they had taken each other that day. The hours passed in a repeated pattern of desire, satiation, dozing while entwined, food and then starting all over again. Millie reckoned she'd slept for no more than three hours in total between her shifts, but instead of feeling like the living dead she felt more energised than ever. But that euphoria was gone and instead she felt as though she could never smile again and would certainly never find happiness to match that which she'd discovered with Max.

She didn't know at what point in the night, in her restless semi-conscious state that it started to dawn in her mind that perhaps Becksy and her mother had a point. Perhaps if she felt like this then maybe he did as well. She began to wonder if maybe there was far more to the revelation than she knew. He'd revealed so much to her over the last couple of years that his secrecy about his family made no sense. As her thoughts tossed and turned in her head, so her body did beneath the sheets, the betrayal she had lived with for the past week was easing despite the bloody minded recurring effort to remain wounded.

By dawn, her decision was made, she would answer his next message.

***

During his drive from the pub to the flat Max made a few decisions of his own. He wouldn't visit again. Neither would he send any more messages. He'd made fool enough of himself over her and it was time to find a new kind of normal. One without his family, Katya or Millie. But in the empty silence of the spare bedroom, Max also was powerless to stop his mind wandering back to that first long day in bed together. He recalled how his self-assured demeanour had been contrived. There was something about her that reached into his soul and touched him so deeply that it scared him, but his attraction to her had come out of nowhere and was too strong to walk away from. He knew she was nervous and used his bravado to compensate, relieved when it had worked as she tried to rush his seduction. He couldn't let her do that, it was too special to hurry through, it needed to be savoured and remembered. Not that it was helping him now. Max shifted uncomfortably, he wanted to forget, didn't want the images inside his head but they were impossible to dismiss, no matter how easy Amy might have wanted to believe. That little sound Millie made as she had arched into his hands, he'd come to crave that sound and the craving had frequently got him through the day until he could see her again, even if it was only for an hour or so as he returned home from work and she went out for her shift.

Carefully, reverentially he had eased her down onto the bed, his mouth buried into her neck. A sheen covered her body, causing it to glow in the dappled daylight of the room. As he lifted his head her eyes fixed on his, as though by keeping that connection she could hold on to herself.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a whisper.

She nodded.

"Say yes, Millie. I need to hear you say it," he worked a hand from her hair, down the column of her neck, sweeping over breast and stomach and lower still, so close but not far enough for either of them. "Millie?"

"I'm sure," she breathed.

Max sat up sharply in bed, his head in his hands. A cold shower would do it. But minutes later he returned to the sheets, still damp, still unable to let go of the memory of that day. Perhaps he needed to let this run its course tonight, the fresh start could wait for the morning.

As they had lain back together, replete and breathing heavily, she had tried to pull the sheets over her with a shyness that belied what they had done with one another.

"Are you cold?"

"Um, a little," she had replied hesitantly.

"Then come here." He'd pulled her further into his arms but still she tried to conceal herself beneath the sheets. "Why are you doing that?" When she didn't answer, through fear or insecurity he couldn't tell. a surge of protective pride overwhelmed him as he rolled over her to rest on his forearms either side of her head. "You have the most incredible body that I want look at all day, every day. You don't need to hide any of it from me."

"I – I thought you might be disappointed … I mean … I don't exactly work out as much as I should …"

"Do I look disappointed? Did any of that feel like disappointment?" He had looked down into her eyes, willing her to believe every word, because it was true.

"Maybe not," she replied eventually, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Give me a few minutes and I show you again just how not disappointed I am," he collapsed partially on top of her, nuzzling into her neck sleepily. "I've waited a long time to get here."

"Two weeks."

"What?" he yawned.

"It's been two weeks since, well you know … It isn't very long."

"It's been long enough for me, I can assure you," he mumbled, drifting off. "Get some sleep because I'm going to wake you up again as soon as I have the energy." The vibrations of her gentle laughter had run through him from her body.

But that was then, in the past along with every other failed relationship.

By morning he had decided there would be no place for Millie in his future.


	14. Chapter 14

There's a line in the first part of this chapter which I think I read on Sierra Oscar a while back. I don't know who attribute it to, but loved it so wanted to include it here. If it belongs to you, I hope you don't mind.

**Monday AM**** – Sun Hill**

"Right," Max strode into the midst of the desks in CID shortly after eleven, immediately garnering the attention of his wary team. He'd been in since six that morning and during the quiet early hours had rifled each desk for files that he had delegated during the previous week, sticking notes to each with instructions for further action and blunt if not harsh criticism of efforts already made. "All of you in the briefing room in ten," he growled. A ripple of '_Guv_'s at different pitches and levels of animation acknowledged his demand. Grace looked up from her screen cautiously and immediately back at it as she suddenly found herself to be the focus of his intense scrutiny. "Have you finished with that witness on the Sheldon case yet?"

She shook her head, aiming for confidence but succeeding only in apologetic self-defence, "there's something she's not telling us. I think she's scared."

"You're taking too long. If you don't get it wrapped up by the end of the morning, she _will_ be scared, and it won't be of anyone out there. Sort it Grace, or I will."

"Welcome back Max Carter," murmured Mickey under his breath to Max's back as he disappeared out of the doors of CID, "we haven't missed you."

"How did Jo describe him once?" mused Terry out loud.

"Charm on a sodding stick," chorused the lambs grimly anticipating their slaughter.

The team filtered in one by one to the room to find Max impatiently supervising young PC Sunil Shah who was nervously pinning photographs to the board with shaking hands. Grace and Stevie exchanged an apprehensive glance as Max barked at the junior officer to hurry up before repeating the order to the assembling group.

"Okay," he eyed the room severely, "enough wasting time sitting around waiting for results to come our way. I've identified fifteen of Sun Hill's most wanted and unwanted and we are going to take them off the street by the end of this week. The Super and Commander Kennedy have given the go ahead for as much overtime as needed to pick up this lot and anyone else we find in our paths. I don't care how much they are carrying, if it's possible to argue intent to supply then pull them in. Any suspicion of stolen goods, pull them in. Driving without a licence, road tax, insurance, pull them in. Inspector Smith is giving the same brief to uniform and Barton Street is on stand by for assistance where required."

"Er Guv?" piped up Mickey as he gestured at one of the mugshots, "David Hawton is one of my informants."

"I know that Mickey but you haven't had anything out of him in two years. He's taking you for a ride while maintaining his own little enterprise on the side. Bring him in." Mickey sighed. "You got a problem with that DC Webb?" snarled Max, challenging him to bite back. But Mickey had seen it all before and simply shook his head slowly.

"No Guv," he stated flatly.

"Good. If any of you have got plans this week, cancel them. I'm in the process of setting up raids for Tuesday and Wednesday nights, possibly Thursday as well. Depends how you lot all perform this week and trust me, I'll be watching. I've split you into two teams with uniform for back up, each team will take half of the list, but this one," he pointed to a man identified on the board as Donny Gallagher with heavy set features and a menacing monobrow, "is mine. If any of you come across him, you call me immediately."

Back at her desk and hour or so later, Stevie replaced the telephone receiver slowly and rolled her eyes at Terry opposite. "I'm going in… wish me luck."

"You'll need it, he looks like he could start a fight with himself in there."

Max heard Stevie's high heeled boots click-clacking towards his office stopping as she reached the door and knocked. She entered without waiting for his reply earning herself an angry glare from the self-styled tyrant ahead of her.

"I didn't say come in."

"You said you wanted results, well I'm delivering them to you, without _wasting any more time_" she retorted, heavy with sarcasm. "Uniform at Barton Street have picked up Sonny Thompson and are bringing him over here now."

Max ignored her tone. "Good, one down, leaves only fourteen to go. At least someone out there is getting on with the job" resuming his focus back on the paperwork that would provide the warrants for the raids he was planning over the next few days and clearly indicating his dismissal, a hint she was unwilling to take. "What now?"

"What was all that about? We have been covering your arse for the last week while you holed yourself up in here. But today it's all guns blazing, chucking around threats and making demands that we can't meet at such short notice. Max," she sighed and softened her voice as she took a step towards his desk, "what's going on? I know it's none of my business, but I heard that you and Millie-" but he didn't let her finish.

"It is absolutely none of your business and if you've got the time to stand here and chat about my personal life, then I've obviously failed to give you enough to do, which I can easily rectify." Stevie automatically stepped back towards the door, thinking that had he roared the words at her it would have been less intimidating than the quietly spoken threat, his eyes fixed on hers with a chilling lack of emotion that she'd forgotten could come so easily to him. His lips curled into a sneer at her retreat but she met his stare levelly, summoning up every bit of height she could manage.

"I'm just concerned about you, Max," refusing to back down and address him formally as he no doubt would demand soon enough.

"Your concern isn't necessary, DS Moss, but results are. And if you can't get out there and deliver them, then I'll find someone else that can."

***

**Thursday**** AM – Barton Street**

"Hi Millie! Jesus! You look bloody awful."

"Thanks Ben, that makes me feel a whole lot better," she did her best to muster a smile at Ben's well-meaning but poorly judged banter.

"We heard you and Max had some kind of a bust up. Well, it _was_ the main topic of conversation back at Sun Hill until he began to go on the rampage this week."

"Rampage?" She'd heard nothing from Max since his visit at the weekend and was starving for any crumbs of information, anything that would tell her they were both alive in the same world.

"Yeah. That's why your cells are full," Ben spoke slowly as if talking to a small child. "We're here to drop off a couple for court in the morning and collect a few more to take back to Sun Hill for interview. He's had us picking up every petty criminal and low level dealer that he's ever come across. Says he wants to scoop up a few major players in the process. It's like he's gone mental. A one-man crusade against crime, except he's got us all doing the leg-work. You heard that Meadows has had this Commander Kennedy breathing down his neck for a while?" Millie murmured vaguely in response. "Well, she is loving it, at least she's loving the great publicity in the local rag about cleaning up the streets. Meadows doesn't look so keen, but I guess he hasn't got a choice. Probably worrying about Max blowing his budget for the next five years, we've all been on double shifts."

"Really?"

"Nate's in trouble with his fiancé. He's so tired from the double shifts that he can barely rise to the occasion, let alone have an opinion on the wedding flowers."

"Oi!" exclaimed Nate indignantly looking up from his phone. "I've got no problems 'rising to the occasion'. There just hasn't been enough time to do the job properly, if you know what I mean. Besides, it's not fair to say he's left us to do all the donkey work. That was quite a split lip he came in with yesterday morning. I heard he didn't even take a step back when Donny Gallagher landed one on him and nearly broke Gallagher's arm when he took him down. Roger had to pull him off the guy. And as for the bloody flowers," Nate turned his attention directly to Millie, "your boyfriend has given me a perfect excuse to get out of that one. Couldn't care less what colour roses we have." Millie's face, formerly fixed and stoic, fell at Nate's words. 'Her boyfriend', was anything but at the moment. Noticing how his joke had fallen flat, Nate cosied up to her. "What's going on Mills? I thought you two would be following Becky and me up the isle before long."

"I don't know Nate, I really don't," she answered bleakly, "and I don't know how to make it right again. I think I might have really messed up."

***

**Thursday AM**** – the flat**

Sondra mulled over what she would say to Max. She knew he was at home, his car parked in its usual space was the giveaway as well as the information given to her by the officer manning the front desk at Sun Hill.

"Sorry madam, DI Carter isn't in yet, we aren't expecting him until later this morning."

She'd driven round immediately. Well, it wasn't so very far out of her way into town where she was meeting friends for shopping and lunch and she really was increasingly fed up with Millie moping in her bedroom, refusing to swallow her pride.

Max had watched her Mercedes glide though the car park gates as he stood at the sink coffee in hand and he watched her glide equally elegantly up the steps to the flat. He glanced at the clock, nearly ten thirty. At least he had an excuse to not hang about chatting, there were three suspects in his cells begging for attention and he was in just the mood for it. With any luck they wouldn't roll over and give him what he wanted too quickly, he was so looking forward to working out some aggression on something other than a punch bag for a change. He gave a little laugh. He'd rather face hardened violent criminals than a fifty-something year old woman who had the ability to see straight through him. Despite being uncomfortably intimidated by Richard, Max had somehow felt some sympathy for Millie's father, assuming he had to put up with the same treatment every day, never able to hide anything from her. With that thought in mind, he answered the door just as she rang the bell.

"Hello darling."

"Sondra, I didn't expect to see you," ignoring her silent enquiry as she noticed his injured lower lip.

"Well, I was passing and thought I'd call in for Millie's post, if there is any?"

Max moved aside in the doorway, allowing her to step in. Her perfume invaded his senses, just as it always did. Familiar and comforting, exactly as a mother should be. He closed his eyes as she passed and allowed himself a moment of weakness to inhale deeply.

"There're a few things over on the table, junk and catalogues mainly, how she can need so many I'll never …" he trailed off quietly, catching himself as he realised that it really didn't matter any more.

"How have you been?" Sondra sensed his discomfort and changed tack quickly.

"Busy. In the middle of a big operation. I didn't get in until nearly four this morning, that's the only reason why I'm still here. But I'm due in now so …" he looked pointedly at his watch.

"You look tired darling. Maybe you should get some more rest. I'm sure your team can handle things for you." Max swallowed at her compassion, it was exactly what Millie would say even though she knew he wouldn't take her advice. He took a deep breath and ignored the kindness directed at him, plans had been made and a process started. There was no turning back now.

"Sondra, I er… I've arranged to stay with my brother for a few weeks while I'm waiting the tenants to move out of my house," he paused, speaking these words felt so final, "I'll be gone by Sunday, she can have the flat back then." He avoided the older woman's eyes as they searched his face for every scrap of emotion, stripping away the act from the real. He tried to retreat behind his cold façade but had to turn away as she placed a hand on his arm, acutely aware that she would find the cracks and chisel a way into him.

"I see," she responded to his back quietly.

"I've really got to go," sharpening his tone as he reached for a jacket and keys, refusing to look back at her. "Of course, you're welcome to stay and lock up when you leave."


	15. Chapter 15

Please Feebee, feed your daughter first! I can't bear to be responsible for any more howling toddlers than the two that rule my house …

**Thursday night**

"Millie? Millie darling, are you awake?"

"Yeah," spoke the voice dully from the semi-darkness, together with a snuffle from the brown and white furball of spaniel on the bed.

"Charlie, get off that bed now!" ordered Sondra sharply. The dog complied immediately as Sondra sat in its place and without resentment curled at her feet instead, its fan of a tail beating the ground excitedly. "Here, I've brought you some chamomile tea."

"Oh, thanks Mum," Millie switched on a side light and took the hot mug gingerly, unable to reveal to her mother after all these years that she couldn't stand the stuff.

"I dropped into the flat this morning, to collect your post" she said, aiming for nonchalance and picking non-existent fluff from her trousers. "I saw Max."

Millie looked up at her from under her lashes. "Really? He wasn't working?" Sondra decided not to explain that she had tried to find him at the station first but on being told he wasn't yet in had driven on to her next port of call, better to let her think it was a chance encounter rather than a carefully planned exercise.

"A late start I believe, sounded as if he'd been up most of the night working, and looked it. Of course, you'd know better about such things than me."

"How … how was he?" Millie chewed her lower lip in anticipation of her mother's reply. Would he be in pieces, or not even aware that she wasn't there anymore. Had he forgotten her by now? Is that why he hadn't been in contact at all since the weekend? Had work filled the gap she had left behind? Had Katya filled the gap?

Sondra looked pensive for a moment. "Difficult to say, but certainly not good." She took a deep breath. "Guarded, and struggling to understand why you haven't called him I suspect." Millie stared down at the tea, her brows knitted together. "Millie," continued Sondra softly, "there's no such thing as a perfect relationship where secrets don't exist and mistakes are never made. I've watched you and Max develop something so special together, I can't stand by and allow both of you to let it slip through your fingers."

"And what do you know, Mum?" Millie suddenly snapped, fed up with being told what a mess she was making with her life. She knew she'd buggered this up, probably for good, she didn't need it rammed down her throat by her perfect mother with her perfect family. "How could you possibly know what it is like to be with him? To suddenly realise you've been a complete fool and don't really know the man you love? To find out there's a whole bunch of crap in his past that you can never understand or compete with?" Millie's inference was clear. Richard adored Sondra not just for being his wife but also for her intuition and intellect. He never took a decision without at least asking for her opinion and was lost if they were ever separated for more than a day or two.

Sondra closed her eyes, summoning the inner peace that saw her through every difficult situation she faced. "I know more than you think," she spoke quietly as she smoothed the fabric of the duvet with manicured hands, falling into silence for several seconds. "We decided long ago to never mention it again, but in doing so all we've done is given you a false ideal of what makes a relationship strong. It's not what goes right, it's not the happiness of good times, darling. It's what goes wrong, it's the mistakes we make and how we deal with and forgive those mistakes."

Millie looked at her sceptically. "What are you talking about?"

Although she'd rehearsed this over and over since seeing Max that morning, Sondra hesitated before answering. "Your father had an affair, shortly after you were born."

"What?" Millie whispered in shock and clumsily set down her mug, slopping the tea over her bedside table. "Dad had an affair? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Sondra smiled in reassurance, giving Millie a moment to process the shocking revelation. "My pregnancy with you was difficult, I was constantly sick and suffered with the most awful sciatica that would stop me in my tracks, it was so painful. Then there was the stress of not being married, of Granny and Grandpa disowning me, living in limbo. It was awful, but we got through it. Looking back, I was young and naïve but your father took over everything so brilliantly, found somewhere for us to live and we got married, very low key of course. I was in labour for several days, you were in no hurry to be born and I was exhausted and weak by the time you came into the world. Daddy was wonderful for the first few days, but he had to work, no such thing as paternity leave, and suddenly I was alone in a strange flat. I didn't know anybody, none of my old friends wanted to see me and I had nothing in common with them by then anyway. I grew more and more isolated and resented that Daddy was able to get on with his life exactly as he had done before you were born. I pushed away his mother, even though she would have done anything she could to help because I didn't want anyone to think I wasn't coping. I grew irrational and, knowing what I do today, probably had a touch of post-natal depression. But that wasn't talked about back then, it was simply a case of being a good mother or a bad mother. I felt like a failure and took it out on Richard, criticising everything he did and said, he couldn't get anything right and soon, he was working later and later to escape from it all. Sometimes staying out all night. As you know, socialising has always been a big part of his business, building contacts, meeting the right people, so I didn't think it too strange. Georgie Fleischmann was always in the thick of it, your Godfather never could turn in for an early night if there was a party to go to, terrible influence," she gave a small affectionate smile. "I barely noticed, night and day rolled into one. I only got dressed if I had to go out. Life became a soulless cycle of washing nappies, feeding you and trying to get you to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time." She stopped and frowned, struggling to remember the sequence of events. "I don't know what made me go out that day, maybe the rain had stopped. It seemed to be the wettest Spring I'd ever known, but that could easily have been nothing more than my state of mind. Anyway, I got both of us dressed, sort of, dragged the pram with you in it down the two flights of stairs and walked towards Daddy's showroom at the time. I knew a new girl had started there on reception, answering phones, filing paperwork. Exactly what I did before I had you. I hadn't given her any thought, I didn't think of anything beyond the walls of the flat until I saw her through the glass with your father. His arm was wrapped round her waist and she was leaning against him looking up into his eyes, her hand possessively on his chest. But something caught her attention outside where I was standing, it couldn't have been me, I'd never felt so invisible, but she did see me and she smiled. Not kindly but victoriously, he was her prize. I suppose she was my 'Katya'," a wry smile lifted the corners of Sondra's lips. "She knew who I was and she knew why I was there and she knew that she could have him. But she didn't know me because whatever it was kicked in that day. To begin with I felt defeated and so tired that as I turned away I wondered if I should let it happen and accept that everyone else was right, that I'd made a terrible mistake in running off to be with him. I went home and looked in the mirror, I didn't recognise the creature I had become, thin, bedraggled, my hair unwashed, lifeless skin and in such misery. All I could think was how much we'd been through and that I couldn't let her take him away from me, from us. Oh I realise how this must sound to you," Sondra stroked her daughter's cheek. "You're a twenty-first century woman and why should anyone have to put up with a cheating husband. But I'm a product of a different era and background where women didn't leave their husbands, not on those grounds anyway. Besides, where could I have gone? Back to Granny and Grandpa and their 'we told you so's? Not an option I could even consider." She paused thoughtfully. "So, over the next few days I started to pull myself together, I suppose I finally had a reason to. Something to fight for and it felt good. Your father noticed and he came home a little earlier as the days went by. We talked a bit more, only about you or his day but it was a start. We started smiling again, and laughing." Sondra smiled fondly at the memory but her smile turned wicked. "Then over the next week or so we started to do a bit more, went further and we, well let's say everything picked up."

Millie scrunched up her features with distaste, "Oh, Mum, please."

Sondra laughed at her daughter's squeamishness, "We were younger than you are now, Millie! Well, she must have realised what was going on because she came to the flat one afternoon, a couple of weeks later. You were asleep and I was baking for the first time in ages."

"She came to your home?" asked Millie incredulously, sitting up a little straighter, gripped by her Mother's tale.

"Oh she was sure of herself at first, dressed in her short tight skirt and high heels with her bottle blonde hair. She told me that she and Richard were in love, that I was holding him back and if I had any self-respect then I should let him go to someone who knew how to … excite him. If she said this a few weeks earlier, I probably would have agreed with her, but I was ready and thinking straight by this time. I asked her how often she had slept with him in the previous week but she couldn't answer, I knew he'd been home early every evening so I knew he hadn't been with her then. Of course I couldn't have known exactly what he might have been up to during the day but her reaction said it all, she only came to me to frighten me off, to get him back." Sondra laughed and sighed. "We then got into farce territory when Richard appeared at the door. Apparently one of the boys had seen her slip away and told Richard. Oh Millie, his expression was a picture. I could see his mind trying to work out what to do next but he was stricken dumb, I felt so sorry for him, well maybe not, he did deserve it. Anyway, the upshot was that he bundled her out of the flat and sent her packing. There was a bit more to it than that, but you get the idea. We never heard from her again, I expect she simply moved on to her next target."

"Do you think he would ever have told you? If she hadn't have confronted you."

"I don't know."

"Would you have confronted him?"

Sondra shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. I knew it wouldn't last."

"Didn't you wonder if he would do it again? How could you trust him?"

"Because I love him and I decided that I wouldn't torture him or me by second-guessing his every move, thought and word. What he did was terrible. He lied and was unfaithful, but I would rather live with the past than not be here in the future with him and you and Tara. I have never regretted my decision, even though there have been times when it was hard, it has always been worth it."

Millie drew up her knees and rested her chin on top, looking at her mother intently. "So why tell me all this now?"

"When I saw you sitting with Katya, I knew she was doing to you what that woman did to me. I could see it in her eyes, exactly as I did all those years ago. She was trying to take your man, the centre of your world. And instead of fighting to keep what is yours, you are letting her do it. If you keep hiding in here, he will go. Maybe not to her, but he will go and she will have won a victory of sorts in destroying what you both have. Is that what you want? To let her win?"

Millie stared into space allowing her mother's jaw-dropping revelation to bed into her own mind and accepting the parallels in their two stories.

"I'm trying to tell you that you mustn't become consumed by Max's past, whatever it really involves. You are his future and you both need to learn how to live with and forgive the mistakes that you will both make over the years. I'm afraid you've chosen a complex man, that mother of his has much to answer for I fear, but he is yours and I don't think you will ever be truly satisfied with another. Just as I knew from the first moment I met your father that nobody else would ever do."

"What if it's too late? What if I've lost him already?" she whispered, holding back the tears.

Sondra pursed her lips, it was tempting to tell Millie of Max's intention to move out of the flat, but she wanted to cause neither panic nor further despair. "You haven't yet, I'm sure of that."

Millie nodded slowly, staring at the wall ahead of her, then rose from the bed to reach for a pair of jeans slung over a chair. "Yes. I know you're right, I have to try. We have to try."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go back to the flat." She spoke with fresh determination.

Sondra's eyes flared with alarm. In her opinion, Millie was in no fit state to get past Max's bricked up defences looking as lifelessly ragged as she did. "No! I mean not now. Er, he mentioned that he would be working late again tonight."

"Oh, well, I can wait up for him, we can talk when he gets in. I've left it long enough as it is," she muttered.

"Darling, do you really think that's wise? He'll be ever so tired and tired men don't talk, another twelve hours really won't make any difference. Besides," she stood up and positioned Millie in front of the wall mirror, gently pulling her lank hair away from her face, "maybe it would be good for you to get a decent night of sleep and in the morning, get up early, wash your hair, put on a little make-up, some nice clothes. Show him the woman he needs. Trust me, it's a proven tactic. Even the most complicated men can still be shockingly simple creatures at times."


	16. Chapter 16

**Friday morning, the flat.**

_I must become the lion-hearted girl, ready for a fight …_

She'd been listening to this CD for months, sung along to it almost daily and knew every word of every song but this was the first time she had really heard these particular words. The track left her wondering that perhaps it wasn't so clear who the lamb was after all. As her mother had suggested, Millie had been up early, showering, shaving, blow-drying and curling. The end result might be described as being the 'just got out of bed look', but it took a lot more effort than simply pushing back the duvet and springing to life. A couple of hours work and some subtle make-up later, she left the house with her mother's approval and confidence that it would all work out, together with a chicken casserole and two lasagnes, just in case additional cajoling was needed Sondra had joked. But here she was, with her key in the door, ready to turn, and her heart racing with anxiety.

The flat looked just as she had left it, neat and tidy but it was somehow empty, as if all life had been extinguished. Millie dropped her brown leather overnight bag down on the dining table and as she did she heard the power shower pump kick in from the spare bathroom. Initially thinking it odd that he wasn't using their bathroom, she assumed it must be faulty yet again and made a mental note to get the plumber back in later. But her uneasiness intensified when she went into their bedroom. It was still exactly as when she had last been in the room, the bed linen crumpled, the headboard broken and the tie darkly snaking through the white sheets. She picked it up and tangled it in her hands, holding it to her cheek and then inhaling deeply for any lingering trace of him. He obviously hadn't slept in their bed since they had last been in it together. Their en-suite bathroom had also been abandoned, bare of almost everything with only a few lonely bottles remaining in their usual places. Refusing to let herself be derailed, Millie set to work changing the sheets. She could at least set the bed straight, if nothing else.

She was dragged away from completing her task and brought back to the present when the hum from the shower abruptly ceased, but the noise was immediately replaced by her blood pumping so violently in her ears that she wondered if she would be able to hear anything over the din. She swallowed, hoping to revive her fortitude and taking a deep breath she forced her feet to take her body towards the door and into the sitting room where they would have to face each other. She left the bedroom as Max was walking into the centre of the sitting room, a white towel slung low around his hips and drying his hair with another smaller towel, her eyes immediately drawn to the droplets of water running down his back as he took each step away from her.

Max came to a sudden halt as soon as he saw the leather bag on the table, immediately aware as he did so that that a pair of most likely brown eyes were watching him from behind. A barrage of conflicting emotion coursed through his veins as he spun round to find her standing only a few feet away with his tie crushed in her hands, watching his reaction intently. Their eyes met, pleading for the other to reach out and make everything okay but his swiftly turned hard as he lifted his chin, raising his defences with it. Millie reflected that he was never an easy one to read but this time she had no idea what was going through his mind. Was he resentful, angry, hurt, or perhaps indifferent? She prayed anything but indifference. Her lower lip threatened to quiver but she bit it hard to keep herself in check.

"Here to pick up more stuff?" he indicated back towards the bag with a sharp dismissive flick of his head.

"N-no. I've come home."

He paused, trying to decipher his own reaction to her, stopping himself from striding over and holding her so tightly that she could never leave him again. His soul knew how good it would feel to hold her face to his skin, to feel her body against his, to be able to absorb the rhythm of her heartbeat into his own and for a moment he weakened enough to almost take a step forward, but he didn't. The darkness he had fallen into had taken too strong a hold in his head and refused to allow him any measure of comfort from her. Instead, he kept his focus steady and continued to dry his hair, neck and chest with the towel. Millie watched his body move, her mouth dry with the longing of nearly two weeks abstinence. Her fingers twitched with the desire to reach out for him, to trace the contours of his body as the muscles flexed, calling provocatively to her, even if his expression was quite the opposite. She willed him to speak again, something, anything to break the silence and give her a clue to what he was thinking.

"I told your mother, Sunday." Millie's brows furrowed with incomprehension as her fuddled brain tried to work out the relevance of his statement. He could see that she didn't understand what he meant but an explanation would take too long and it was getting harder, uncomfortably harder, to be with her like this for much longer. "I need to get dressed," he muttered disappearing into the spare room and deliberately closing the door sharply behind him. To Millie, his obvious display of excluding her was as stinging a blow as had her slapped her face.

Max leaned back against the door breathing heavily, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that it made his head hurt, his hands clenched into fists as he struggled to regain control of his feelings, to lock them back down to where they needed to be. He cursed himself for weakening, cursed his body for wanting her and his soul for needing her. The last couple of days had gone well, Sondra's visit apart, he had almost convinced himself that he was beginning to get over her. He had felt some sort of victory that he could block her out of his life, but seeing her had made him realise he was still a fool for her. Nothing had changed, she still held him and he wondered if she always would. First Katya, now Millie Brown. Idiot.

Millie walked forward a few paces to where he had stood and slipped her feet out of her ballet flats to stand in his wet footprints as if she could draw something of him into her from simply occupying the same space where he had been. She looked around and it dawned on her what was missing. All the photos were turned down or reversed. No smiling pictures looked back at her, even her birthday cards were gone. She blinked as she struggled to work out what she really missed and as she remembered leapt onto one of the leather armchairs to reach up to a high bookshelf, righting a few frames while she frantically searched for what she wanted. With a sigh of relief, she found the much adored and somewhat crumpled photograph partially hidden between two books, a picture of him taken on their last holiday. In it he hardly looked like Max Carter, his hair was way longer than usual, having missed his last hair appointment trying to finish up work before they left. And he'd had a few too many margueritas that night, which was the reason for his rather lopsided leering grin. He hated the photo, but she loved it because it was a side of him nobody else ever saw. A side that belonged only to her. While he had become more balanced over the preceding couple of years, he was still hardly Mr Sensitive and rarely thought of as being fun to be around. Except with her, or at least he used to be.

Holding the photo protectively to her chest, she started to clamber down from the chair, noticing as she did the framed pencil sketch of a naked woman hidden behind it instead of on its hook on the wall above. She reached down to pick it up and gazed at it wistfully. She remembered when she had given the drawing to him and watched how his expression had changed as he took in its subtle eroticism. Puzzled at first, his breathing deepened while his pupils had dilated with the realisation that the woman was her. Only he would know. In the picture she sat on the edge of a crumpled bed with her back to the onlooker, her hair loosely pinned up and her face only seen in part profile, as if aware she was being watched by him and she in turn was watching the watcher out of the corner of her eye. That was how she had imagined it while sitting for the artist friend of her mother.

"_It's beautiful," he__ whispered, tracing a finger over the drawing along the curve of her body from her shoulders down to her waist from where her hips flared lusciously. She'd felt it as surely as had his hands been on her. "Who drew it?"_

"_A friend of Mum's," she replied, adding quickly, "a woman," sensing his uneasiness at the thought of another man seeing her naked. "I wasn't sure what you'd think. I mean, it's so hard to buy presents for you, you never wait for birthdays or Christmas, if you want something you just go out and get it, I-" he cut off her rambling with a heated kiss that told her she had judged the gift perfectly._

Millie had wanted to hang it in their bedroom, somewhere away from visitors' eyes, but Max had refused, arguing that he could see her body in there whenever he liked. He wanted to be able to lie on the sofa and look up at her, knowing she was watching him. He also admitted that he enjoyed the illicit thrill that came with the suspicious glances of friends who saw the drawing and finally Millie had also had to admit how she liked that it felt kind of naughty to be so sensually, yet anonymously, on display. His second most treasured possession, he called it, just to tease her.

Sighing, she replaced it on the wall, carefully adjusting it so that it hung straight and was back on her feet by the time the spare bedroom door opened and he returned fully dressed into the room. Max immediately noticed the drawing back on the wall and clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge it or her, instead turning his attention to rolling up his shirt cuffs along his forearms. Millie watched him do what he did every day, but this wasn't like any other day. There was so much to be said and he clearly wasn't going to make it easy for either of them.

"What did you mean about Sunday?" she blurted, anything to break the silence.

"Your mother didn't tell you?" Millie shook her head, her brow furrowed at his tone, indifferent, her worst nightmare. Max took a breath and continued with forced airiness, "I'm moving in with Greg for a while, until I can get the house back. I'll have all my stuff moved out by Sunday."

"What?" Millie's response was little more than a whisper, her eyes wide with shock, "but this is your home. You can't go."

Max's self-control snapped, unable to believe her audacity. "Home? How is this a home for me?" he roared. She had refused all contact with him and now expected to walk back in and pick up where they had left off. "This is your home, it's nothing to do with me."

Millie's head swam, reeling at his rejection of the life they had built together. "How can you say that? Look around you. Look! There's something of you in everything here. Look! The books, DVDs, photos, pictures," she grabbed the tacky Mexican china cow bought after too much wine on their latest holiday and slammed it down on the table with a bang, "even this."

"They're just things, they don't mean anything," he spat, but he had to turn away from her and lean into the kitchen island unit because although he spoke his words with harsh conviction, he didn't believe them.

"Oh, right. Just things, meaningless things," she muttered. She spun back to the drawing on the wall and scrambled up onto the armchair to wrench it down, pulling out the hook in the process. Still muttering under her breath she rushed past him, scraping ferociously at the tape on the back of the frame with her finger nails and eventually managing to free the paper within. Max only realised what she was doing when he heard the rasp of the cigarette lighter, a hang over from his smoking days now kept for candles, and launched at her from his position. She cried out as much in surprise as pain when he grabbed her wrist to wrestle the lighter away from her hand just as it singed a corner of the paper.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded angrily, still gripping her wrist tightly, shaking her slightly.

"If it's just a 'thing', if it doesn't have any meaning, then it isn't important, is it? Is it?" she screamed hysterically. Everything was going wrong. She had had every intention of coaxing him to talk, for them to both explain to the other what had got them to this point but instead he'd already taken the decision to move out without a backward glance at what he was leaving behind.

Max released her sharply, recoiling as if the contact had hurt him as much as the red marks on her skin showed he had hurt her. He threw the lighter back into the odds and ends drawer, slamming it shut viciously, and lunged forward to grab the picture from her clutch before she could do any more damage to it.

"You left me!"

"Because you lied to me!"

"I tried to explain but you didn't want to know. Instead you took your stuff and you walked out. You ignored every message I sent, I even came to see you twice. Well I'm not going to be that pathetic again. I thought," he paused, breathing heavily with barely contained pain, "I thought you were different."

"Different to whom? Her? But I'm not like her," Millie's voice broke. "I thought … maybe you would want to go back … now that she's …" she trailed off limply, she felt herself crumbling in the face of the hurt he was suffering. "Why, Max?" she pleaded, tears falling from eyes that could never hide her emotions from him, no matter how much he wished they could. It would be so much easier to be able to claim that he didn't know what she was feeling, maybe then he wouldn't feel any kind of responsibility or primal need to make it right, to protect her from all that was bad. "Why didn't you tell me about her?"

"Because …," he had to turn away, knowing now that there was no other way out of this than to lay himself open and tell her what he had for years refused to acknowledge. "Because if I did, then I'd have to tell you about everything else."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to Feebee & Firebird, hope it hits the spot ....

"Everything else? You mean there's someone else?" she wailed in distress, unable to believe that this was going to get even worse.

"No, of course not," Max snapped with frustration at her ridiculous conclusion but immediately kicked himself for his sharpness. "Sorry, I didn't mean …" he ran a hand through his still wet hair, walking over to the armchair. He slumped down, his head in his hands, searching for the words to start with but coming up with nothing that made any sense. "I don't know where to start."

"At the beginning," she suggested anxiously, noting that he had isolated himself from her again, sitting in the armchair instead of on the sofa. He nodded but lapsed into silence while Millie did what came naturally to her in tense situations, she made coffee. He watched through his fingers as she set about the task. Not nearly so serenely effortless as Sondra would have been, instead fumbling clumsily, nervously with the coffee jar lid and swearing softly under her breath as granules leapt out onto the work surface. He loved her, adored her all the more for her imperfection, it made her his Millie, rather than simply a carbon copy of her mother. He wondered whether had he revealed more of himself from the start, or at least been upfront about Katya, then they wouldn't be like this now. That way, if she had been so appalled and finished with him in those early days when the emotional dependency wasn't yet there, he wouldn't be faced with knowing that he had driven away the only woman who could keep him sane, and safe.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked quietly as she approached him carrying the mugs.

"I need to know, Max."

"I won't be able to take it back."

"I know."

She set the coffee down on the side table between the chair and sofa, providing him with the prompt to start. "I suppose I had a real sister once although not for very long. Danica, they called her. I was four, Greg was just over two I guess. She suffered some sort of heart failure before she was born and was severely brain damaged. Never made it out of hospital, I never saw her and I don't really remember anything about her. Except that's when it started. When Mum came home from the hospital for the last time."

"When what started?" whispered Millie, utterly confused by what this had to do with Katya, but with a sense of foreboding.

Max didn't answer, he was lost on the past, standing in the hallway, watching his mother walk towards him, cold fury etched into her already hard features. "She hit me. And she kept hitting me, shouting, screaming. I don't know what she was saying, I was so scared. I mean, she never was like your mother, she didn't hug or kiss, she didn't volunteer much in the way of affection but I was probably used to that. It didn't seem to matter. But the beatings, they were different. It wasn't every day, not even every week. That was the worst, not knowing when it was going to happen. As I got older, I was always in some sort of trouble at school, nothing too serious but each time she was called in I knew what would be in store for me when I got home."

"Didn't your father try to stop her?" asked Millie in disbelief.

"Dad?" he laughed bitterly, "you've met him enough to know that he's too weak, too under her thumb for that. Scared of her. I don't think she ever turned on him, but I know she blamed him as much as Greg and me for Danica's death. I guess she was grieving and she had to let it out somehow. She used to tell us that if we hadn't made her work so hard looking after us then the baby would have survived."

"But that's ridiculous. Surely you didn't believe her?"

Max shrugged, "you tell a kid something often enough and it becomes fact." Millie winced with the sadness she felt for the boy who was never allowed a childhood and the man whose life had been blighted by it but Max didn't notice, he'd returned to the past. "Then she started to pick on Greg. We used to spend hours locked in the understairs cupboard, in the dark. Greg hated the dark so we made up stories, to pass the time. We'd huddle together, whispering because she would beat us both if she heard any noise, she'd beat us both if we wet ourselves because she kept us in there so long sometimes. The chances were high that she would beat us both anyway, but maybe not immediately, it might be a few hours, or even a day later. I worked out the signs pretty quickly so whenever I saw her building up to it, I did something to distract her and I got the beating instead. I got very good at it, I'm not sure if Greg ever realised how bad it was, he was always in his own world, always the quiet one. I think he came through it okay though, of course meeting Laura at school was the best thing to happen to him. She got him out of it all and moved them to Ealing, well away from the rest of us. She makes sure that Mum is never left alone with their kids and any visits are quick and rare. I wish …," Max stopped, he wished he'd met Millie years earlier, maybe then he could have got out and away from it all as well. But it was pointless to wish for something that could never have happened.

"Max-," Millie started softly but she didn't know what to say.

"It went on for years like that, until even Mum had to realise that we were too big for the cupboard. She made Dad put locks onto out bedroom doors instead," he laughed at the memory of his father silently fitting the locks, under orders. "I wanted to hate her, I tried every day to hate her, but I couldn't do it and the failure only made me hate myself for being as weak as Dad. I wanted her to love me, I never stopped hoping for something from her, not until you …," he frowned at the floor unable to look up at Millie, fearing what he might see in her face. "I spent years staring through windows at families like yours, but as the years went by, I don't know, I suppose I grew immune. It was just the way our family was and I focussed instead on finding a way out. I figured joining the police service was as good a way as any. I thought about the army for a while, but I like my comfort too much for that." Finally he looked up, his stomach lurched at Millie's faint smile at his self-deprecation.

"Then everything changed. Mum got a phone call and she left. She didn't come back for a couple of days and then a week later a girl turned up at the house with a social worker. Katya. She stayed a while, looked down her nose at Greg and me, then left. Dad explained who she was and that she was probably going to come and live with us. I went mad, it meant Greg was going to have to share my bedroom, two years age gap makes a big difference when you are fifteen, just so that she could have his room. I didn't understand how anyone could let her come and live with us when were already so fucked up. Mum flew at me, reminding me that it was my fault Danica hadn't survived and now I was threatening her second chance to have a daughter." He touched his hand to the faint scar in his hairline. "That was the last time she hit me," he laughed bitterly. "So I have Katya to than for that. Mum had a frying pan, I think, in her hand at the time and the rim of it must have caught me, there was blood pouring down my face, soaking my clothes but she didn't seem to notice let alone care. It was Dad who took me to hospital, six stitches. I'm pretty sure the one of the nurses suspected something, Dad told her that I'd been fighting with my brother, but I didn't say anything, not even when she asked me. I figured I couldn't tell the truth but I was damned if I was going to lie for any of them. When we got home, I heard Dad tell Mum that the nurse was suspicious and that if she really wanted Katya to stay with them she had to keep a lid on her temper otherwise someone would find out and take her away. I think he could see that I'd had enough and it wouldn't have taken much more for me to tell social services everything. So she stopped. Just like that. She never hit me again. All because of Katya".

"Oh God. You've carried this around with you … all your life. Never told anyone? Ever?" He shook his head mutely. "Why?"

"I don't know. Scared I suppose. Scared that no one would believe me and then it would get worse. Maybe even scared that someone would believe me and then I'd be taken away, split up from Greg. Then it kind of got to the point where it was all happening to someone else, not me. You know, when I deal with child abuse cases I feel no empathy, none at all, because it didn't happen to me. That boy was someone else. Until now, until you, I'd almost forgotten about it. Although it's always there, in the corner of the room, somewhere in my head but somehow I don't feel it. Does that make any sense?" he looked at her pleadingly and Millie wanted so much to tell him that it did, but she was struggling to come to terms with his story.

"I guess it explains a lot," she replied inadequately. "So, what happened with Katya. What was it like when she moved in?"

"Mum was happy, for the first time I had ever known, but Greg and I might as well have been invisible, unless we did something to annoy Katya of course. Then we'd be in for it. Not physically though, for once she listened to Dad. It was purely emotional, in here," he tapped his head with a finger, "she'd accuse us of trying to drive Katya away if we did the slightest thing to upset her. Katya knew it and she used it for all it was worth. She might have only been fifteen but it was her thing to tease me and lead me on, knowing that she could turn it off and go cold in an instant. She'd let me touch her, it was incredible, every teenage boy's fantasy coming true," he whispered, back in his old bedroom, now her room, "a little further each time, or she'd take her school uniform off and make me watch while she got ready to go out to a friend to do homework. That's what she'd tell Mum anyway. The truth was that she was always heading out to meet someone else and she'd liked to tell me what they were going to do. Then when she came home she'd tell me all the details, how far she'd let the guy go, which was always further than she'd let me. I wanted to tell her to go to hell, but I couldn't. I was a fifteen year old boy, a mass of raging hormones and insecurities. Finally though she let me fuck her, one Saturday afternoon when Mum was out and Dad was watching football downstairs with Greg." He laughed bitterly. "She laughed at me. Asked if that was it, if that was the best I could do. She humiliated me but it only made me want her more. My punishment was to only be allowed to watch her for a week, no touching and definitely no fucking. It nearly killed me. Then it was all back on, but only because I started paying attention to a girl in her class and she liked having me on the end of a piece of string all to herself, but I was learning her tricks. For the next couple of years that's how it worked. We'd screw, fuck, whatever, then she'd tell me she was bored, that I wasn't good enough and she'd start up with a new guy and I'd do the same with another girl, in retaliation. I don't want to think of the number of people we screwed up by using and then dropping like that. But then she started to run out of new victims, she had a reputation and not a good one, whereas screwing around only seemed to work in my favour. I was never short of a girl to … well, you know." Millie's eyes were out on stalks at his callous behaviour. Max shrugged. "I was seventeen or eighteen by then, needed a distraction from A-Levels that I wasn't likely to do well in and I suppose I had, what's the phrase? 'No moral compass' when it came to girls, women. If it was offered to me, I took it, with precautions though. Katya's influence. She may be cocktease and a bitch, but she wasn't stupid, not back then anyway. Getting anyone pregnant or catching something was never part of the plan, although because we weren't always so careful, she went on the pill."

"Something clearly went wrong then," muttered Millie.

He looked blankly at her for a moment before colouring as he remembered Katya's accusation. "You mean the baby. Or not, only Katya knows about that for sure. I told you all I know. You do believe me don't you? I didn't force her to have an abortion. I wouldn't … she didn't tell me about it until afterwards …"

Millie took a deep breath, studying his stricken face and nodded. "Yes, I do believe you. I shouldn't have doubted you, but it was such a shock, I didn't know what to think." He seemed to take some reassurance from her faith in him. "Go on," she prompted, "what happened next?"

"It just carried on. She got the grades she needed for law at Cambridge, there was never any doubt about that, and after trying a few different things, I went to Hendon. We'd still see each other, on the same terms. Swapping stories of who we'd been with, laughing at it all. Well, she laughed, I didn't find it so funny anymore, but I couldn't stop, couldn't say no each time she called. Sometimes I'd go to Cambridge to be her bit of rough, that's how she'd describe me to her posh friends to taunt me so much that I'd drag her back to her room and fuck every bit of venom out of her, or at least try to," he finished wryly. "After university, got her first job in the city and only looked back to screw with me. It only ended when she went to work in New York. That's when she told me about the abortion, she knew I'd hate her for doing that without talking to me, that's why she told me."

"And your response was to fuck her against the wall."

Once again, Max was stunned by the details that Millie could remember. It had been just one throwaway comment in their last conversation and she was able to reel it off as if it was the only thing he said. "I was angry. It's what we did, it's what we were. I'm not proud of it but I can't change it." Millie looked down at her hands, reproaching herself for the bitter remark. "Anyway, that's it. That's all there is. You know everything now." He sat back in the chair, his gaze firmly fixed on her. Coldness crept into his heart, preparing for the rejection he fully expected to follow. "Satisfied? Still the same man that you said you loved? Still want me to stay?"


	18. Chapter 18

"…Still want me to stay?"

His coldly spoken words brought his confession to a close and rang in her ears. She held his inpenetrable stare for as long as she could but had to avert her eyes to the wall behind him as she struggled to make sense of everything he had just told her. Tension filled her head and she lifted her fingers to massage her temples in an effort to bring some relief. Of course she wanted him to stay. There couldn't be any doubt, could there? Yet she was torn between hating what Ola had done to him and what he had done in response. She hated that he and Katya had inflicted their own twisted game on so many unwitting victims in the pursuit of some kind of warped satisfaction in lieu of happiness. She hated it because she could so easily have been one of them. Perhaps she had been.

"Was I only meant to fill the gap?" she looked back across at him, daring him for honesty.

"I-" he hesitated, unwilling to explain further, unwilling to face a possibility he had chosen to deny from the start.

Millie's eyes narrowed while he paused and she pounced on his moment of weakness. "Was I just another fuck for you until you realised that she wasn't coming back?" she found herself hissing, her insecurity in the guise of anger bubbling to the surface.

"Millie," his tone should have been enough to warn her to stop, it would have been enough for anyone else.

"Tell me!"

"Alright! Maybe at first, I don't know," he slammed a fist down violently onto the armrest of the chair, his self-control escaping through the chinks in his armour. Her insistent demand for an answer bit into him, forcing out the truth even if it only made matters worse.

"You don't know? How can you not know?" Millie felt slow clamminess spread through her body as another thought occurred to her. "Did you take that undercover op to get away from me? You said that you were scared, that we were getting too serious, but was that the real reason? Perhaps you'd got bored, perhaps you wanted her back and couldn't do that with me around. You needed a clean break."

Max lunged forward in his chair angrily. "For God's sake Millie, will you stop reading so much into everything? I have never lied about the reason I took that op or anything that happened during it or since. Everything I told you about it is true." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his blood to stop pounding. When he opened them moments later he found her eyes watching him defensively, her arms wrapped around her body as if shielding herself from him, scared of what he might tell her despite her bravado. "Okay. At the beginning, I guess I was …, shit I don't bloody know what I was. Katya had gone and you had just shown me what a prize idiot I had been over your kidnap. You were always offhand after that, whenever I saw you, you looked at me so indifferently and I wanted to wipe it all away, to start again. Then being stuck in that lift together, when you said I was cold and unpleasant and that you'd never want to be like me. It's all been said before, but from you it was like some kind of punishment for not taking you seriously. Everything slotted into place. It seemed … natural I suppose to want to have you."

Millie frowned wondering what he meant as she remembered that day when it had all started, thinking about what happened next. "I hit you," she whispered, thinking back to their temporary prison. She felt sick with the realisation that no matter how much she might protest that she was nothing like Ola and Katya, she too was guilty of meting out the same physical and emotional brutality towards him. "Oh God. I hit you."

He nodded then laughed sadly. "It wasn't that much of a slap, I'm used to taking far worse." He rested his elbows on his thighs and bowed his head slightly. "Then when I came back from Poland, making me go into therapy, holding out on me for months. Punishment again. Almost catholic in a way. I sin and then you hold the key to my redemption. It's like that line from Mass, 'I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.'"

"But I wasn't trying to punish you. I've never tried to punish you. I thought I was helping you. I thought it worked," her voice cracked, realising how her help had done nothing to repair the damage inside and how little she knew him.

There he was. His split lip marring his features, she longed to reach out to run a finger along it, to heal it as he seemed to think she could. Her wounded lion caged by the pain of his childhood and humiliated by Katya's emotional torture. She wondered briefly, unable to deny the woman at least a token measure of compassion, just what had driven the girl she had been to such cruelty. But her sympathy was fleeting, there could be no space in Millie's thoughts for anyone except him. Yet here she was playing her part along side Ola and Katya, pointlessly interrogating him over what his intentions were towards her so long ago. Their history together was all that mattered.

"I'm not like them," she insisted, as much to herself as to him, "I'm not."

"Then why did you leave me?" He was crumbling. The man or the boy, she couldn't tell which, but she understood he needed to know that she would never leave him again. She made her decision and slowly drew herself up from her position of safety on the sofa to perch on the coffee table at his knees, forcing him to accept hers between his.

She lifted his chin to face her and brushed a finger over his lip, shivering as he shuddered at her tenderness. For a moment she had him, he softened into her hand and the distance between them narrowed. Each could feel the other's breath on their skin and their pulses quickening. Millie shifted forward to get closer but her sudden movement was enough to disrupt the fragile peace building between them.

"I don't want your pity." He jumped up from the chair, roughly shoving her aside so that she had to steady herself on the chair to avoid tumbling to the floor.

"Pity? I feel so many different things for you right now, but pity certainly isn't one of them," she called out to him. "Frustration, anger, love …"

"I met someone," he sharply cut off her declaration before she had the chance to further assault his resistance.

Millie's heart stopped as yet another hurdle was thrown in her path. "When?" She just about managed to choke out.

"Last weekend, after I drove up to see you. When you were out at the pub with your mates."

She noted his accusatory tone but chose to ignore it, pulling together all her resources to stay calm and keep her voice light. "Where?"

"At the White Hart."

Millie frowned as she recalled the last time she had been there, when he had ended their fledgling relationship in favour of his career-enhancing undercover jaunt. "Why were you there?"

"It felt appropriate."

Another punishment, Millie recognised. "What happened?"

Max turned his back to her, gripping the back of a dining chair to keep his hands still. "I was sitting in the garden, trying to decide whether to have a smoke when she walked up to me and sat down."

"And?"

"She asked for a light and we talked for a bit. She'd just split up with her boyfriend, her married boyfriend, and said that maybe we both needed some company. Then she kissed me."

"She kissed you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you kiss her back?"

"Nah."

"Why not? Not pretty enough?" Millie bit her tongue to prevent adding that if the girl was offering herself to him she was surprised he didn't accept.

"She was attractive, not my type especially, but, yeah she was okay."

"So why? Why didn't you kiss her? Why didn't you …" Millie swallowed anxiously, imagining the devastation she would feel if he had slept with the woman prevented her from completing her question.

Max dipped his head. He'd tried so hard to maintain his defences, to keep his cool, but it was all futile. "Because I love you and I don't want to be with anybody else," he replied mournfully after a moment.

"So why didn't you call me again after that? Or send any more messages?"

Exasperated, he turned back to her. "Because, Millie, you gave me no hope that you'd talk to me, let alone come back to me. What the hell was I supposed to think? Even Katya didn't cut me off like you did. And I never felt for her even close to what I do for you. I figured that … that if I couldn't make it work with you then I didn't deserve to …"

Millie watched as he fought to control his usually iron-like emotion, she couldn't bear it, couldn't let him carry on holding all this pain alone. She jumped up and ran the few short metres to him in an instant, determined that this time he would not succeed in pushing her away. She grabbed his hands in hers and interlocked their fingers as tightly as she could. "Stop! Stop this. You are not responsible for your sister's death. And you cannot go on blaming yourself, punishing yourself for it. You' mother's unhappiness is not your fault, she's a hateful woman and I … I will not allow her to control you like this anymore." He squeezed his eyes shut, making only a faint effort to break free of her grip but finding familiar comfort in her hands as they shook his sharply. "Look at me Max. Look at me. I'm here. I know should never have gone, I should have listened to you but equally you should have told me all this before. I love you and I would never have rejected you, I never will. You do deserve this, us. You do."

She raised his hands to her cheeks, encouraging him to hold her face. He finally opened his eyes when he felt her smooth flesh gently pressing against his, to find her eyes shining up at him with barely held tears. A single tear escaped as her fingers relaxed around his and allowed him to hesitantly trace over her skin with one hand as if for the first time, along her jaw line, down the column of her neck and over her collar bone, brushing aside the fabric of her white linen short to rest his palm on the upper swell of her breast. He could feel her pulse racing, pounding, and within seconds falling into the same rhythm as his own accelerated heartbeat. The soft sweetness of her flesh in his hands sent waves of longing through him. He ached to believe her, to let her belief, her goodness fill the ugliness at the heart of him and make him a better man. Her warmth heated him, he felt it spreading, lifting the chill that had taken hold within the two shorts weeks since their separation. But it wasn't easy, it hurt, stabbing at him acutely as it reached deep inside, pricking at the secret fragility he'd always kept locked away. It hurt to accept that he couldn't be alone, that he needed her at the centre of his life.

Millie sensed his internal battle. "Don't push me away. Let me …" she whispered, her lips so close to his that he could feel her words on them as easily as he heard them. Trembling, they touched, she tasted the metallic tang of his split lip, arousing a fierce streak of protectiveness in her. She might not be able to defend him from physical attack, but she vowed to herself that she would never allow anyone to damage the man within again. Another tear escaped, this time from relief that she had broken through. Max felt the cool droplet against his fingers still lightly holding her cheek and withdrew enough to press his lips to its wet path on her skin, brushing away the saltiness and inhaling her subtle perfume, a more delicate version of her mother's. He was stirred from the reverie of his senses by her lips once again seeking his, her hand covering his on her chest, entwining her fingers with his. She pulled away and edged backwards towards their bedroom, holding him with her eyes and hand, giving him no choice but to follow. "Be with me."


	19. Chapter 19

Final chapter at last!

The raunch is for Feebee - no talk of half mongrels or yoghurt trucks you'll be pleased to note. Max is much too classy for that (maybe.) Thank you for all reviews & messages!

Thanks also to Firebird & must also say thank you to Kate-Emma because I probably would never have written a word without you (are you still out there?).

Hello to Maze.

So, here goes ...

Millie held him only by her fingertips but Max was irrevocably bound to her. The only peace he'd ever known was with her and the last two weeks without her had been worse than he could imagine hell to ever be, for him as well as anyone he came into contact with. There was nowhere else he wanted to be and no one else he wanted to be with, there never would be. Yet, the nagging doubt still remained that she didn't deserve to be with him, she ought to have a better, good man whose morals weren't so suspect and character so tainted, but he couldn't walk away and he wouldn't send her away.

He followed Millie as she walked into their bedroom, in relief that it was to be their bedroom once again. The crisp fresh linen on the bed signified a new start, even in its half completed state with the old sheets discarded, forgotten for now, to a corner of the room. She turned back to him and laid her hands on his chest, feeling his warmth and its rise and fall with every breath through the pink check cotton. His eyes dropped to her hands and hers followed. Millie bit her lip as she tenderly, slowly drew her fingers across to the buttons, smoothly undoing each one, her short nails trailing down his skin as she progressed downwards. He stood motionless, watching her work, absorbed by her effortlessness and waiting for the moment when she would pull his shirt free. Finally it came and he exhaled as her hands slid the fabric over his shoulders and down free of his wrists. He hadn't realised how hot he was until the cool air washed over his skin. The tips of her fingers trailed to the end of his and then back up the length of his arms, so lightly that he wasn't sure she really was touching him or whether it was no more than his imagination.

She drew circles on his wide shoulders, captivated by their tightly controlled strength as if touching them for the very first time. Gently, she guided him back towards the bed and after a swift reassuring glance up she unbuckled his belt so that she could unfasten his jeans. Plenty of practice ensured no fumbling this time as she slid her hands from his waist inside and over his hips, pushing the jeans and boxers down his thighs. Max had to squeeze his eyes shut as she ran her palms back up his body to press down on his chest, indicating that he should sit and allow her to remove his clothing completely. Their eyes locked on each other as she stood and took a small step back from him to take off her own shirt, grateful for its press stud poppers rather than yet more buttons. Her hands made short work of her own belt and jeans and within a few seconds stood before him in only her pink silk lingerie, contrasting so delicately against her own pale skin. As she tucked her hair back behind her ears, Max frowned just a little, noticing cheekbones that were more pronounced than usual and her body perhaps slightly less rounded. However, his concern evaporated as she closed the distance between them, her hips swaying as she took the step forward to stand between his parted legs. Her seductiveness was innocent, without guile or connivance. She never seemed to fully understand the effect she had on him, never quite believing him when he told her that she eclipsed every other woman he had known.

"I wish I could draw all the pain out of you," she stroked his cheek before cupping his face in her hands, lifting his chin so that he was looking up at her. "I wish I could take it all away." His expression told her that he too wished she could, but that it was impossible. "I know, it's been in there too long, too long to erase overnight. All the same, I wish I could. Let me love you, Max. All of you. Let me love the boy and the man, I can do that. I can love you enough to replace all the sorrow and the guilt that they heaped on you." He looked up into eyes that gave him hope. He'd been so scared of ever putting his childhood into spoken words, fearing that outwardly acknowledging it would destroy the shell he had crafted in his progression from child to adult and he would be broken into pieces. Yet it hadn't happened. She knew the truth and she still wanted to be with him. He was still here, tender and bruised but complete. The sensation of unbounded relief overwhelmed him, unnatural tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he fiercely buried his face into her stomach to staunch them, to draw comfort from her body. Millie felt almost winded as his arms wrapped around her waist so tightly that she could barely breathe, certain that had his hands not held her firmly she would have been knocked over by the force of both his embrace and the emotion she could feel coursing through his body. She gasped as she struggled for air, looking down at the top of his head and hesitantly allowing her hands to come to rest in his hair, holding him to her but willing him to relax by regulating her own breathing and hoping that he would fall into the same pattern. Her fingers instinctively sought to soothe, lightly raking the back of his head as she knew always helped to release his tension. Gradually, through her ministrations, his grip softened and he found himself able to look up at her again. His silent plea was clear, _make love to me_.

"Lie down," she whispered softly. Max complied, his eyes not leaving hers as she followed him down onto the mattress, resting her body on top of his. He reached round to unfasten her bra strap, breathing deeply as the silk slipped from her skin, releasing breasts that he was sure were made for his hands. She shrugged out of the straps and threw the bra to the foot of the bed, with her sheer pink knickers following soon after. Both naked at last and without any further obstacles to hinder them, Millie resumed her position and leant in to kiss him, deeply, slowly, completely. Her hands explored every ridge and valley of his body, as familiar to her as ever albeit it more sharply defined she thought. "Have you been spending more time in the gym?" she questioned him quietly, her breath tickling his ear.

"Yeah, would have gone mad otherwise, too many empty hours to fill," he barely managed to reply, thinking that he might just go mad anyway from the heat of her mouth scorching his neck and down into the dip above his collar bone. He let her continue, drowning in the exquisite sensations she was delivering, as her lips sought and found a nipple, tormenting it with her tongue and nipping lightly with her teeth while her fingers flicked teasingly at the other. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath, his hands tangled in her hair as she worked sheer magic on his body, wondering how she could get any better but knowing that she would. His control wavered when she continued her journey, licking and kissing, gently dragging her teeth against his chest as if to taste the heat beating within. Her fingers criss-crossed his body and her mouth followed, her tongue dipping into his navel for a moment once, then twice. He opened his eyes and lifted his head a fraction to find brown eyes staring up at him, telling him exactly what she intended next. Without waiting for his response she turned away and he so nearly exploded as hot softness engulfed the head of his cock. His hips bucked involuntarily and she took him deeper without hesitation or complaint. The temptation to allow her this was immense, she so wanted to worship him, to give him anything but he needed to reassert himself and give something back to her. If she carried on like this, it was going to be over far too soon.

With tremendous effort, Max shifted his body away, ignoring Millie's muted cry of protest and flipping her on to her back. Her protest transformed almost immediately as he slipped a finger inside her, finding the deeply hidden spot he knew so well. Mesmerised, he watched as she ascended towards the little death that he so loved to give her. Millie gripped his shoulder with one hand, the other fisted into the pillow beneath her head as the wave of intense pleasure rolled through her body, finally breaking and taking her with it. Her rapture alone was nearly enough to take him with her but from somewhere he found the strength to cling on. With her muscles pulsing around his fingers still buried inside her, unwilling to part from her body, he desperately grabbed at the beside table drawer, wrenching it open in search of the foil packets within. A few seconds later he was ready, Millie was still floating somewhere with a faint smile of fulfilment dancing across her smooth features, her lips parted and breathing returning to normal. Max smiled too, but his was tinged with carnality. He grabbed a pillow and lifting her hips with one arm, pushed it beneath her, draping her legs over his thighs. It was enough to surprise Millie whose eyes snapped open, just as he slid into her. She met him stroke for stroke, looking up with wonderment at the powerful body working in unison with her own. Her expression only increased his determination to take her further, her tilted hips giving him the access he needed to gently rub across the tiny nub that held the key to their satisfaction. Their pace quickened until finally Millie broke once more and this time there was nothing he could do to stop her release taking him with her.

Max was roused from his semi-slumber by his mobile phone ringing in the sitting room. It would of course be someone at the station wondering where he was and if he was going to put in an appearance today. He ignored the ringing and the subsequent insistent beep telling him that there was a voicemail message. But the landline ringing beside his head was harder to ignore and he was forced to answer.

"Are you okay? We've been waiting for you." asked a worried Stevie.

"Yeah. No. A bug of some sort or maybe that burger last night," he answered thickly, hoping to convince her that he was laid up with illness. "You take care of everything today. I'll get in tomorrow, if I'm up to it." A soft giggle emanated from the warm bundle of flesh snuggled next to him. "I'll call in later, bye Stevie," he abruptly continued to disguise the sound.

"Pulling a sickie, eh? That's very naughty!"

"I'll show you naughty, come here."

Later, after decadently worshipping each other and thoroughly making up for two weeks of abstinence, Millie lay with her head resting on his stomach, drawing languorously on his chest. She didn't want to ruin what they were rebuilding, but unanswered questions weighed heavily on her mind, threatening to ruin their rapprochement whether spoken or not.

"Max?"

"Millie?"

"There's something I don't understand."

"Only one something?"

"No, there's a lot I don't understand, but this is something in particular."

"Go on then."

"I assume your Mother knew about you and, er, her?" Millie found herself unwilling to taint their reunion by speaking Katya's name. "Didn't she think it was, well, odd, a bit weird even?"

Max sighed and pulled Millie up so that they lay facing each other, chest to chest. He smoothed her hair back, playing with it idly as he thought how to put this tricky explanation. "She didn't know about us until Katya went to university. She caught us in bed when Katya came back to visit one weekend and went mental, called Katya a slut and threw me out of the house, for a couple of hours anyway. But then Katya told her that I'd seduced her and she was in love with me. She said I was the reason she came back to visit but that she knew I was seeing other girls at the same time. She painted me as the bastard while she was the sweet innocent that I was playing with.

"Your mother believed her?"

"Of course. Why would my mother believe me? She didn't even ask and I couldn't be bothered to try to explain. Wouldn't have been any point."

"So what happened?"

"I guess Mum realised that it was in her interest to give her blessing. If Katya was involved with me, then she'd come home more often. It was her way of not letting Katya move on, even though Katya had worked out the whole thing, it was always on her terms. She kept us all hanging, waiting for her next call or visit. Still it kept Mum happy so I went along with it. It did mean though that I could never bring anyone else home. Whenever Mum got wind that I was seeing someone, life got unbearable. She'd rant that I was driving Katya away, hurting the poor girl. I took the first chance I go to move out. It, er, made things easier."

Millie ignored his reference to his past womanising ways. "But you introduced me to her. Why?"

"Because by the time you and I were together, properly together that is, Katya was long gone. Gone to New York and made it clear to us all that she wasn't coming back. Mum really lost it when she went, but I didn't care, I was free of her and whatever we were. It was good. I only introduced you to her because I thought she was finally over it, and because you were so bloody determined to meet my family. I didn't bank on Mum being so disgusting to you all the time, I thought she'd come round a bit at least. I should have known better. I also didn't bank on Katya coming back into the family fold."

"So, let me get this straight, she hates me because I stand in the way of you and Katya being together and her warped idea of a happy family?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

"Shit. I don't stand a chance in winning her over then."

"Do you want to?"

"No. But she is your mother and we can't ignore that fact."

"Yes I can."

"I admire your optimism, but-"

"Listen, Millie, I don't care if I never see any of them again. I certainly don't want to have to constantly be looking over my shoulder, wondering what twisted little game they are going to come up with next. I know what she used to say to you, I could see how it hurt you each time. I should have put distance between us and them before but I couldn't bring myself to do it. But I can now. Mum went too far this time, and as for Katya, well she hasn't been important to me for years. It's better that neither of us have anything to do with them."

"What about your Dad though?"

"He's too wrapped up in them, completely controlled by Mum and what she wants. It's no hardship to lose him either. If anything, it's a relief. If I don't see him, then I won't feel responsible for him."

Millie studied his face carefully, searching for any sign of regret, but there was none. Instead there was hopeful excitement, for the first time that morning. Gone, for now at least, was the pain. She smiled and nodded, drawing his face to hers for a long, lingering kiss.

Satisfied from her kiss that she had accepted his declaration, he pulled away and flopped onto his back, taking her with him. "Millie?"

"Max?" she replied with a giggle.

"Your mother really didn't tell you that I was planning to move out? I suppose I was kind of hoping she would and that would make you come back."

She looked up at him sharply. "No! I'd have been here straightaway if she'd told me, instead of …" she trailed off as she realised exactly how Sondra had manipulated the pair of them.

"Instead of what?"

"Mum told me something guaranteed to make our bust up seem tame in comparison."

"What?"

Millie hesitated, it wasn't her secret to tell, but she didn't feel like keeping any secrets from him, she wanted complete honesty between them now. "She said that Dad had an affair just after I was born, with someone who was eerily similar to Katya."

Max gave a little laugh. "Your Dad? Had an affair? I can't believe that!"

Max's scepticism hit home, it was pretty hard to imagine her father ever noticing another woman, but Sondra had told a very convincing tale. "You don't think she made it up do you? No!"

"You are a trusting soul, which is why I love you. Let's just say I have my doubts, but I'm not going to ask your father, are you? Anyway, I don't understand why that stopped you coming back yesterday?"

"I was going to, but she said I should wait until this morning and, um, make a bit of an effort. That's what she did to get Dad back, so she said. And I guess I haven't cared much about how I've looked for the last couple of weeks, there hasn't been much point. I think Mum was trying to let me know that I looked mess and that I ought to tidy myself up, to improve my chances of ... well you know."

"Ah, I see." He ran one hand along her body thoughtfully, the other toyed with her hair. "You must have been up pretty early this morning then, to achieve all this. Just for me." Millie blushed self-consciously and he hugged her tightly, adoring her softness. "Millie Brown, I'd want you if you, even dressed in a sack, even in that terrible purple top you used to have." His old joke made her smile into his shoulder. "But …"

"But what?"

He disengaged from her. "But there is less of you than I remember."

"Oh, do you think I've lost weight?" she asked hopefully. "The upside of all this is that I haven't wanted to eat, must have lost a few pounds."

"I can tell," he replied sternly, hauling himself up from beneath her. "I think we ought to get some meat back on those bones."

"Where are you going?" she asked as he fished around on the floor for his jeans and then pulled them on.

"Good coffee and chocolate croissants, I think. Best to make a start building you back up now, don't you?"

Millie watched admiringly as he fastened his belt. "Mum sent me back with two lasagnes and a chicken casserole."

"Extra bribery in case your own charms weren't enough?" he laughed, now shrugging on his shirt.

"Something like that. Dad wasn't happy to see his favourite food leave the house I can tell you. Although I think he saw it as a fair compromise to get me out."

Max buttoned his shirt, smiling at the image of Richard's conflicting emotions as both the lasagne and Millie left his home. But as he did, the seriousness of everything that had happened came back to him. He leaned back down onto the bed to lift her head to kiss her, running his fingers along the smooth skin of her neck.

"I'll be back soon. Don't leave this bed."

"I won't." She dropped back down as he left the room, listening as he rummaged for his keys and wallet. "Oh, Max?" she called out.

"Yeah?"

"Put the rubbish out will you?" He groaned audibly at the return to domesticity. "Hey! It's a blue job-"

"Not pink, I know, I know." He'd never been so happy to carry out his household chores.


End file.
